In The Flesh
by Jess Pallas
Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.
1. Parts one and two

In The Flesh – Part One

In The Flesh – Part One.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at [jesspallas@hotmail.com][1]

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Lots of reference to OOTM and LATP, slight passing reference to TWWW, TGAS and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note:This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Jak Cordak swore loudly and ducked for cover as yet another conduit exploded overhead. He shielded himself as best he could from the blizzard of golden sparks, stumbling backwards, his tall, lean frame seriously oversized in the tiny, narrow corridor. His dark eyes glimmered angrily – he brushed a hand across his short hair to check that no spark had set it alight. His hand caught on the stubbly darkness that had already cost him the six inches of gold locks that had been his pride and joy and silently cursed his ship.

The Motjor was falling apart.

There was no denying it. Their tangle with that peacekeeper marauder – what the frig had peacekeepers been doing out here anyway? – had left the pirate raider, once feared throughout the sector, as little more than a tangled heap of floating metal floating deep in space. If that peacekeeper ship hadn't inexplicably withdrawn in the direction of the rebel Sebacean colonies, that would have been the end of his long and distinguished career. Half his crew were either dead, or nursing crippling injuries, including most of his engineers, leaving himself and the other helpless warriors who knew nothing of technology to stumble around in a ship that look set to dissolve into pieces any microt.

"Grajul!" he roared into his comm. "What the frig was that?"

"That be the power dubler to the cannons!" The voice of the Motjor's lone surviving engineer was fraught and course. 

Jak bit back impatience. He hated tech talk. He found it a frustrating irony that his last tech was the one most prone to speaking in terms that made Jak feel ignorant. Jak did not like feeling ignorant.

"And what exactly does that mean?" he said, grinding his teeth audibly down the comm link. He heard Grajul gulp and bit back a rush of satisfaction. He loved it when people cowered before him.

"It means we ain't got no weapons left." The tech ventured warily. He was right to be wary.

"WHAT!!!!" Jak jumped up and slammed his head against the corridor roof. He felt blood in his mouth and swallowed it, fighting rising fury.

"We're defenceless? No weapons at all?"

"Aye."

"But we're pirates! How the frig are we supposed to make a living without weapons? We can't even steal a new ship! You have to fix it!"

"I canna. It's busted up good an' we don't have the parts t'rebuild it!"

"Well find them! Or would you rather I came down there and introduced you face to face to your internal organs?"

There was no response. Jak could hear the frantic intake of breaths.

"I'm commminnnggg!!!!" he drawled down the comm link as he turned towards the lower tiers of his ship. A muffled screech echoed from the other end. Jak smiled to himself. He wasn't really going to kill his last tech of course – just rough him up a bit. It wouldn't help the situation, but what the frig; he'd feel better.

"You'd better come up with a new answer for me Grajul, because if I come down there and it hasn't changed, they'll be picking up pieces of you in…"

"Captain!"The hail interrupted his threat. He tisked in annoyance and changed frequencies.

"Yes, Areni?"

The voice of his second in command was enthusiastic; even eager."Jak, we've found a ship!"

The pirate was alert at once. "What kind of ship?"

"A derelict, although it still seems to be functional. It looks Halosian."

"Are its weapons functional?" Thoughts of disembowelling Grajul slipped reluctantly from his mind. He'd need the tech after all, if they had to salvage parts and graft them onto the Motjor.

"Looks like it. In fact, most of its systems seem fine. It just doesn't seem to have a crew."

"Could it be a trick?" Halosians weren't known for their subtle cunning but it never hurt to be careful.A Halosian on the evolve was a dangerous thing.

"I don't think so. Its weapons range is greater than ours. If they were going to fire, they would have hit us already."

Jak paused thoughtfully. If the Halosian ship was a derelict, abandoned for whatever reason, it could be just the break he needed. Halosian ships packed a decent punch and most important of all – they were roomy. He would take any chance to get off the Motjor.

"Ready the men," he ordered brusquely. "I think its time we left this heap of junk to rust in pieces."

**********************************

It was astonishing how easy it was. When they boarded the ship, they found only a single Halosian alive, a lone female, struggling desperately to repair the ship and go in search of friends. She found none amongst the crew of the Motjor. They thanked her for her diligent work on their new ship, then dragged her down to the airlock and flushed her into space.

It didn't take long to get things in order. The Halosian bodies were mulched down and fed into the fuel generator, restoring power and bringing vital systems back on line. Thanks to the Halosian, weapons systems were in perfect working order; it appeared they had been the first thing she'd repaired. Jak's men knew the drill; they stripped the ailing Motjor of all her useful parts and transferred quickly to Halos 1, fighting and squabbling amongst themselves as they fought for decent quarters. Jak himself was already comfortably settled in the largest, most substantial rooms. Although the Halosian décor was bleak, the pirate had amassed a fine collection of expensive items from the rampant pillage of numerous Royal barges and soon he had the grim façade looking almost like a home.

They quickly moved on. A single blast from the forward cannon was enough to relegate the Motjor to a pile of drifting scrap, a state it had been yearning towards for many days already. Grajul was rather uncertain at first, but a number of beautifully turned threats from Jak inspired him to excellence and the new engines were quickly in working order. They headed out of the doldrums and set out in the direction of a commerce planet Areni knew. Where there were commerce planets, there were pickings; any pirate knew that. You always got some under armed fool lurking in orbit with riches to be had and no-one else in orbit was stupid enough to help out a ship under siege by Taurax pirates.

Jak had left Areni to guide the way, taking a long nap in his new quarters, but as requested, his second commed him once they were in range. Revelling in the headroom, striding tall, the pirate strode onto the vessels command, grinning broadly and rubbing his hands together.

"So what find delicacies do we have on today's menu?" he exclaimed jovially, approaching the read-outs. 

Areni looked a little disappointed. "Not much," he confessed. "Looks like a slow day. Only three ships in orbit worth looking at."

"Well that's three more than we were in any state to fight with in the Motjor!" Jak refused to be depressed. "I want to test this beauty out! Now what do we have?"

Areni hit the panel – a hologram drifted before their eyes.

"Alanian Trader. Crew compliment fifteen. Armed with Rocho cannons and missiles. Carrying a full cargo of Riscus fruit."

Jak pulled a face. "I'm not hungry enough to face down Rocho cannons for that. And anyway, those fruits are disgusting! What else?"

The hologram contorted into a new shape. "Ylou'xive Cruise Fighter. Heavily armed but damaged on the back wing. Crew of forty, but their comm traffic indicates they've suffered heavy casualties. Carrying a cargo of Grousium."

Jak frowned thoughtfully. "Grousium is worth a bit. And their firepower would make a nice addition to my new ship. But Ylouxians fight to the death and they have big teeth – we'd loose men. Still it's worth considering. So who's last on our little list?"

Areni touched the panel again. The hologram stretched, twisting from its spidery form into a long, elegant vessel, with three delicate tapers at its rear.

"A leviathan." Areni raised an eyebrow at his chief. "Fairly young. Looks female, although it's hard to be sure. Comm traffic indicates a small crew; maybe no more than half a dozen."

"Anything of value on board?" Jak was examining the vessel carefully. This had possibilities.

"Nothing specific. But a leviathan in itself is going to fetch a bit if you can find the right buyer."

"Perhaps even more than a shipment of Grousium." Jak smiled suddenly, teeth gleaming with a predator's menace.

"What do you say, boys?" he exclaimed. "I've always rather fancied owning a leviathan!"

************************

"Are we ever gonna get out of here?" 

John Crichton sighed, glancing impatiently up at the golden ladder that led into the transport pod. Beside him, Zhaan offered a wan smile as she pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders, cradling her basket gently in her arms. Rygel, who had long ago lost patience, peered down from the pod doorway above.

"Aren't they back yet?" he demanded. "What the yotz is taking so long?"

John shrugged. "I dunno, Sparky. If you're so interested, why don't you mosey on out there and fetch them?"

"Because I know what they'll be doing!" The Hynerian retorted. "And I have no desire to see it. Those two are disgusting!"

"Look who's talking," John muttered under his breath but made no other comment. 

As far as he was concerned, what Chiana and D'Argo got up to in the privacy of their own quarters was up to them. The only time it bothered him was when it held them up.

Like it was now.

John considered himself a fairly patient man but even for him, this was stretching things. They'd arranged to meet in the maintenance bay more than half and arn ago, intending to take a trip down to the commerce planet in search of a few supplies. It wasn't that they particularly needed anything, but after the secrets and intrigues of the last few weekens, a little time apart from each other would probably do them all some good. They had all been showing signs of strain of late. Despite the undimished frequency of their couplings, the relationship between D'Argo and Chiana had already begun to show cracks. D'Argo had been short, almost brusque with the Nebari and she had returned the favour with pouty looks and sulks. Zhaan had been strangely distant ever since she had returned from her mysterious excursion with Moya and Pilot and Pilot had been even worse, at times quiet and almost subdued, at others snappy and irritable. Neither had offered any explanation for their behaviour, exchanging inscrutable looks and changing the subject whenever they were quizzed about it. And Aeryn was Aeryn; a mystery in black, incomprehensible, at times warm and friendly, at others pushing him back to distances so vast that they seemed to fill the galaxy. Only Rygel remained himself and that of course was one thing that John could have done without. The human sighed. Even he had started to feel of late that he barely knew himself, that something inside him was changing, growing and he didn't like the sensation. There were times when he almost felt as though there was someone else running his mind.

His musings halted abruptly as D'Argo, stony-faced and looking none too happy, strode into the room, Aeryn a step behind. He brushed passed John without a word and started up the ladder, a grim expression set on his features.John glanced across at Aeryn, but she shrugged, as nonplussed as he was about the Luxan's mood. The human knew he was on dangerous ground; D'Argo looked angry and one wrong move could push him over the edge into a hyper-rage that would mean several days of Hell for them all.

"Chi not coming?" he asked mildly.

"No," D'Argo snapped gruffly. "She claims to have a headache."

"Oh." The emphasis was enough to tell John that there had been an argument somewhere along the line and Chiana was probably sulking in her quarters. It was best to leave it for now. Let them cool down apart and forget about it. By the time they got back, the Luxan and the Nebari would be ready to reconcile and carry on where they had left off – in the bedroom. 

John looked at Aeryn and swept a bow, gesturing to the ladder.

"Ladies first!"

But the peacekeeper shook her head. "I'm not coming either. I don't feel like it. Besides…" Her voice dropped and she shot a covert glance at Zhaan who was ascending the ladder delicately. "I wanted to talk to Pilot alone."

John caught her meaning at once. "You think he might be a little more forthcoming when it's just the two of you, huh?"

Aeryn nodded. "I hope so. We need to get to the bottom of this. He's starting to worry me."

John patted her shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing. He's probably just a little embarrassed about getting lost again. If he hasn't told you, it can't be that serious. He tells you everything that matters."

She sighed. "I hope you're right. Either way, I'd rather know."

"Good luck," John smiled crookedly. "I'm almost tempted to join you. A trip in a transport pod with D'Argo right now is going to be barrel of laughs."

"Stay if you want," Aeryn shrugged but John shook his head.

"I need the air. I dunno why, but I feel like I'm going stir-crazy up here. Maybe a change of scene with help loosen me up."

Aeryn nodded. "Fine. Just don't make D'Argo any angrier. A fit of hyper-rage is the last thing we need to deal with." 

"Crichton, come on! Why do you have to be so slow?" D'Argo's bellow echoed through the bay, causing the tools on a nearby workbench to vibrate.

"Me?" A succession of inappropriate retorts hovered on John's lips but he bit them back in the glare of Aeryn's steely gaze. Muttering about the hypocrisy of Luxans under his breath he turned and climbed the ladder, hauling himself in to the pod and slamming the door behind him.

*********************

It was with a strange sense of relief that Aeryn watched the transport pod depart the hanger and melt into the tumbled mass of stars. She felt vaguely liberated somehow, freed from the chains of restraint and control that shackled her in the presence of the others. The tension that had hung thick in the air almost seemed to dissolve with their passing, dissipating on an invisible wind and spinning away into nothingness. Relations on Moya had been so difficult ever since they had left the Royal planet; it seemed as though they had all come away with something to hide. The secrecy in their souls had shimmered in the air like a weight, dragging them all down and making them nervous of speaking, for fear that they would reveal more than they should. Aeryn didn't like it. They had all become so close of late, and some part of that seemed to have been lost. It had damaged the atmosphere aboard Moya and steps needed to be taken to repair the breech before it swallowed them all. Talking with Pilot would only be a small patch on the wound but at least it would be a start.

Pilot had felt it too. To begin with, he had ignored it, too busy trying to come to terms with the events surrounding his encounter with Moya's builders, but it had invaded his senses, pervasive and cold, a pall of tension that engulfed the crew and threatened to swallow them entirely. He knew his own behaviour had been a contributing factor but he simply couldn't help that. He had travelled to within the slightest whisper of death, perhaps even further, and the sordid murmur of that darkest of places still lingered in the back of his mind. He had tried to shake it but it clung on, leaping from one strand of thought to another, using his own multi-tasking abilities against him. It distracted him, disturbed him, drove him to snap at the crew and withdraw into himself, seeking solace within Moya and the performance of his duties. More than anything, he simply wanted to put the whole wretched business behind him.

Therefore he was somewhat less than enthusiastic when he sensed that Aeryn was approaching his chamber. He was very fond of her and under any other circumstances, he would have been glad to have her come and talk. But he knew what she wanted and knew as well that he simply couldn't give it to her. He didn't like keeping the truth from her, but for reasons he could not explain, even to himself, he simply couldn't bear the thought of confronting the business out loud. He was just beginning to gain control of his thoughts again now and the last thing he needed was a reminder of the void resurging in the corners of his mind.

"Pilot."

He looked up and met her gaze, a dark silhouette against the golden backdrop as she stepped into his chamber, letting the door swing closed behind her. 

"Officer Sun," he acknowledged back. "What brings you here? I would have thought you would have left for the planet with the others."

She shook her head. "I didn't feel like it." There was an almost forced casualness about her as she made her way across the walkway to lean against his consol. "I thought I'd come and talk to you instead. It's been a while since we've had a really good conversation."

"We talked yesterday," Pilot commented mildly. "And the day before."

"We communicated," Aeryn corrected him. "We didn't talk."

He let that pass. "What would you like to talk about?"

She met his eyes. "What happened whilst we were separated."

He was careful not to let his feelings show on his face. "Did you do something you feel I need to know about?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "Nice try. You know what I mean."

Pilot sighed, keeping his eyes lowered as he adapted the amnexus flow on tier seven, carefully considering his answer. He could continue to hedge, which would drag this whole conversation out until Aeryn lost her temper and made him answer or he could get it over with quickly. He opted for the latter.

"I would rather not discuss this now," he said, continuing to avoid her gaze with precision. "I am quite busy."

Aeryn glanced at his consoles. "A few minor anomalies. Nothing on scan. You don't look that busy to me."

He had forgotten she could understand his readouts. That bluff might work with the others, but Aeryn could not be so easily fooled. He knew she was staring at him; he could feel her eyes boring like needles into the top of his head. It was now abundantly clear he was not going to get out of this one without confronting the issue. He took a breath, tapping one claw gently against a control as he considered his next move. He began to wonder if he should simply spill out the truth and get it over with. But a part of him balked inside; telling her would only force him to face the fact that it had all been real. He couldn't do that.

He met her eyes, hoping to find a little sympathy behind the determination, hoping he could make her understand without actually revealing too much.

"I wish I could tell you," he said sincerely. "But I don't want to talk about what happened. I don't even want to think about it. Aeryn, please, out of friendship at least, can't you just leave it at that?"

There was a long pause. Aeryn's eyes remained fixed upon him as she tried to puzzle out the meaning hidden under his words.He could sense her mind working, running through what he'd said in an attempt to gleam from it, some small nuggets of information.

"Whatever happened must have been pretty bad if you can't even bear to discuss it with me," she offered cautiously.

He recognised at once what she was doing. "I will not be tricked into discussing this," he told her bluntly. "Please find a new subject or leave."

She looked rather taken aback by his tone. "All right," she replied, a hint of confusion evident in her voice. "What else would you like to talk about?"

Pilot paused for a long moment. "I have no particular matters in mind," he said blandly. "Have you?"

She shook her head. "Then I guess I'd better leave."

Pushing herself upright, she turned for the door. Pilot felt a sudden rush of guilt. She'd come down to see him out of genuine concern and he'd all but thrown her out. She didn't deserve that.

"Officer Sun?" he called out.

She turned back. "Yes, Pilot?"

He hesitated, uncertain of quite what to say. "I have no wish to chase you away," he ventured finally. "I do appreciate your concern for me; I simply would prefer to keep this matter to myself."

She nodded. "I understand. We all have personal things in our lives we'd rather not share. I have no right to press you on something you want to be private."

He ventured a smile. "Thank you,"

She returned the expression. "You're welcome. Though quite for what, I'm not sure."

He tilted his head. "It would take too long to explain."

Ignoring the blank look on her face, he turned his attention back to his consoles. Something caught his eye almost at once.

"Officer Sun!"

She must have sensed the urgency in his voice. "What?" she responded, wheeling and hurrying back to his side. He barely noticed as his four arms skimmed across the panels, seeking affirmation of his initial reading. A moment later, his worst fears were confirmed.

"Another ship is approaching us with some speed." He was unable to keep the tension from his voice. "It appears to be the Halosian vessel we encountered a while ago."

"The same one?" Aeryn pulled herself half onto the console to get a better look at his readings. "Are you sure?"

"I am as certain as I can be. In physical dimensions, it is identical to Halos 1. It even bears similar scars of damage, although much of it has been repaired."

Aeryn was shaking her head. "This doesn't make any sense. Zhaan said Tak was dead and Yoz was near enough to make no difference. How did they manage to repair the ship? And how the frell did they find us?"

"It could be no more than coincidence. I believe the ship may have acquired new owners." Pilot bent closer, examining the data carefully. "There have been modifications to the weapons array and propulsion systems. I would guess that the ship has been salvaged and adapted for another use."

"By whom? And why would whoever salvaged it come after us?"

"We may have an answer." Pilot cocked his head. "We are receiving a transmission."

"Put it on external vocal."

Pilot nodded and hit a control. A rich voice filled the chamber.

"I am Jak Cordak, captain of the Mot-Halos and lord-chief of the Motchat clan of the buccaneers of Taurax. You will immediately surrender to me and prepare to be boarded. All items of value will be assembled and readied for my inspection. All crew will await my instructions in the landing bay of your ship. Failure to comply will be punished. Your vessel is without defences; to disobey me would be hopeless. If I have not received your acknowledgement of my demands within one hundred microts, I will open fire and destroy you. I'd think fast. I don't like to be kept waiting."

The transmission cut abruptly. Aeryn and Pilot stared at each other.

"It's just never frelling easy, is it?" the peacekeeper exclaimed in obvious frustration.

Pilot watched her in concern. "What do we do now?"

Aeryn rolled her eyes. "Do you want Moya to become a prize of the Taurax?"

"Of course not!"

"Then we fight." Aeryn reached for her pulse pistol. "Contact the transport pod, get the others back here. When I give the word, signal our surrender. We'll let their shuttle land in the docking bay and then I'll try and hold them off until the cavalry arrives."

"Aeryn, no!" Pilot surprised himself with his own vehemence. "That won't work! You'll get killed, the pirates will shoot down the pod and Moya will be captured anyway!"

"Well, what do you suggest?" Aeryn retorted. "That we StarBurst and abandon the others?"

"That is not an option." Pilot tried to hide his fear. "The Mot-Halos is too close. They would detect any attempt to StarBurst and open fire."

"Then what choice have we got?"

"Thirty microts!" Jak's voice interrupted mordantly. "Will you people hurry it up? I don't want to damage my new prize, but I will. Don't ignore me. I'm not going away!"

"Frell!" Aeryn slammed her fist down on the console. "What can we do?"

Pilot paused nervously. He wasn't sure how this suggestion was going to go down.

"We could raise the defence screen," he ventured.

Aeryn stared at him. "Are you insane? After what happened last time?"

"As far as I can ascertain, it is the only option we have that does not involve enslavement or death. The weapons on the ship have been much adapted and I will carefully regulate the modulation of the screen. It may not happen again."

"But it might! And then what the frell do we do?"

Pilot wasn't listening. "The Mot-Halos is powering its weapons systems. Firing is imminent."

He met her eyes. "Aeryn? Do I raise the screen or not?"

Aeryn stared at him, clearly torn. She had no desire to see Moya hurt but the disorientation caused by the switch would leave them vulnerable to boarding and capture. Whatever happened, the pirates would take advantage.

"Ten microts!" Jak's voice was mocking. "Don't you think you're cutting this a little bit fine? I'd transmit now unless you want to be picking up the strewn remains of your ship from across the quadrant!"

"His forward cannon is powering up. It is targeting Moya." Pilot could not hold down the fear this time. "Aeryn, I need an answer!"

"Five Microts! Four, three, two…"

"Raise it!" Aeryn exclaimed. Pilot obeyed instantaneously as the patchwork of red energy rose to engulf the ship.

"One…. Times up!"

"He's firing!" Pilot's eyes met Aeryn's; they both knew what was coming.

But it was too late to do anything else.

Moya jerked and shook with the impact; she almost seemed to scream. A flood of light and energy seemed to engulf the chamber. The blast echoed through the tiers, shaking the very air with the force of the blow.

Pilot felt himself shudder; he felt the pain as he was ripped free of himself. A new shape, a new form, new senses and new vision surrounded him and overwhelmed him all at once. He had time for one quick scream before everything went dark.

END OF PART ONE.

In The Flesh – Part Two.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at [jesspallas@hotmail.com][1]

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Reference to OOTM, LATP, TWWW and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note:This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Recap: Whilst the rest of the crew depart for a commerce planet, Aeryn and Chiana remain aboard Moya. But pirates have salvaged the Halosian ship and decide to capture Moya. And when Aeryn and Pilot refuse to surrender and raise the defence screen, they quickly open fire…

The first thing Pilot heard as he struggled back to consciousness was the sound of his own voice swearing fluently. He groaned, moving his new limbs experimentally; to his surprise, they responded well. He blinked, struggling to move, to control the unfamiliar muscles and motor functions. Although he had very little idea of what he was doing, he was astonished by how well the body responded to his commands; he felt none of the disorientation and discomfort he had encountered whilst trapped inside Chiana and D'Argo. But the silence that had haunted him of late; there was no escaping that. He struggled against the rising panic that the thought of separation from Moya entailed, trying desperately to focus his thoughts on something else. He couldn't afford to crack now. They had to sort this out. He forced himself to ignore the deafening lack of sound and concentrated instead on assessing the situation.

He knew he was in Aeryn almost at once; he could feel the chafe of her leather clothing, the drape of her hair across his face and besides he was still in his chamber and she had been the only one there. He could feel his own multiple thoughts patterns struggling to adapt to Aeryn's single-conscious brain, but he could also feel a strange melding like a flutter deep inside that seemed almost ready to welcome him. 

"Pilot? Is that you?"

It was disconcerting to say the least to be addressed from above by his own voice. Awkwardly, he pushed up onto Aeryn's elbows, shaking her hair from his face.

"Yes," he replied. "Are you Aeryn?"

"Yes. It looks like we just did a straight swap this time. Chiana wasn't involved."

Pilot had forgotten Chiana was aboard.

"It must only work when the persons are in proximity. Can you contact Chiana or the others? Tell them what's happened?"

There was a moment of hesitation. Pilot felt suddenly apprehensive. He realised all at once that the silence was not just within his mind; it was all around as well. Moya was still and dark, her rhythms slow, her pulse all but inaudible.

Something was wrong.

He fought to contain his terror.

"Aeryn, is Moya all right?" he exclaimed shrilly. "Aeryn, tell me what's happening!"

"I would if I knew!" Aeryn retorted from above. She sounded almost as fraught as he did. "When we shifted, something happened to Moya as well. She went frantic for a microt, everything racing and out of control and then she just shut down entirely! I've been trying to get her to wake up but I'm not having much luck. I know where the controls are but this multi-tasking takes a bit of getting used to."

"You've done it before. You'll be fine."Gripping the edge of his den, Pilot managed to haul himself upright. He found himself face to face with himself. There was an odd moment as he stared into his own eyes and saw someone else looking back. Aeryn looked just as uncomfortable with the experience as he did, glancing quickly away and returning attention to the panels.

"You see?" she told him. "Nothing's working. I hear Moya's sounds but only her vital signs. Everything else is dead."

Pilot knew how that felt. He bit back his own feeling of dread. Multiple layers of déjà vu rippled through his consciousness; he fought a wave of disorientation. Concentrating hard, he managed to stand, pulling himself up so he sat on the edge of the consoles. He needed to get a better look at this.

Aeryn watched him through his eyes. "Are you all right?" she asked suddenly. "You didn't take to this so well the last time."

He nodded. "I feel fine. I don't appear to have any problems manipulating your body. Perhaps the presence of my DNA has made adaptation easier."

She nodded. "That would make sense." She watched him as he ran her fingers awkwardly over the consoles, examining the data.

"Any ideas?" she asked.

He shook her head. "I don't understand. The impact was cushioned by the defence screen and there does not appear to be any real damage, although it is hard to be sure without functional DRDs. All ships functions apart from manual doors have failed. External comms are down, although I should be able to…"

He broke off, tapping at the controls with the precision of practice. "There. We have internal comms at least. But I can't revive Moya from here."

"What about from command?"

"I'm not sure that would work either. If we want to restore systems, the conduits will have to be manually recharged. Even then, it may not work. Since I have no idea what caused the shutdown, I cannot be certain of a solution."

"Well, it's better than sitting here doing nothing. How long will this recharging take you?"

He stared at her. "Pardon?"

"These repairs. Can you do them quickly?"

"Me?"

Pilot felt the full force of one of his own glares. "Well, who else is there? I'm not going anywhere right now and Chiana isn't responding to her comm. Besides, you're the only one who knows what needs to be done."

"Leave the Chamber?" Pilot felt a coldness run through his temporary body. "I can't!"

Aeryn huffed impatiently. "Why the frell not?"

He couldn't explain it. The very thought of being away from this place, his sanctuary of the last three cycles, filled him with a dread so vast it threatened to swallow him entirely. A Pilot never left his Chamber. It was a physical impossibility; at least under usual circumstances. He had long ago accustomed himself to the fact that he would spend the rest of his life in that single place, never moving, never changing, safe and secure within Moya's deepest sanctum. He had spent his entire existence in places he knew intimately, first his home world, then here. His brief time elsewhere, first aboard Velorek's transport and then in Moya's Cargo bay were times of fear and terror that he'd much sooner not recall. Admittedly he knew Moya's other regions well - he saw them regularly through the DRDs and his holographic clamshells – but the thought of physically moving about within them was so repulsive as to be almost sacrilegious.

"I…" He tried to put the feeling into words. "I have never…."

He broke off, looking pleadingly at Aeryn. "This is my place," he said quietly. "This is where I belong. I don't know how to live anywhere else."

Aeryn must have sensed his apprehension. Gently, she tried to reassure him.

"You'll be fine," she told him soothingly, laying one of his claws against her arm. 

"I'll be right here on the other end of the comm if you need me. Chiana's around somewhere too; I'm sure if you can find her, she'll help you.I wouldn't ask you do this, but we have to know what's going on. Those pirates are still out there. And Moya needs you."

Those were the three words that he had no answer to.

"Moya needs me," he repeated. "You're right. I am being selfish."

Gently, he turned and slipped down to the ground. For a moment he thought that the legs would give way, but to his surprise they held, wobbling worryingly but holding steady. Shakily, he balanced upright, leaning one hand on the console for support.

"All right," he said nervously. "First things first." He glanced back at Aeryn.

"How exactly do I walk?"

For a moment she stared. But then realisation seemed to strike. Pilot had no proper legs. He'd never walked upright in his life. There was no reason that he would have any knowledge of what was involved. Under normal circumstances, he didn't need it.

"Well…" Aeryn paused awkwardly. How exactly did she walk? It was an instinctive thing; she didn't think about it. But Pilot had no instincts in this matter. Like it or not, she would have to coach him. She took a breath, thinking carefully.

"Okay. Move one foot out in front of you. Transfer your weight onto that foot."

Pilot obeyed, wobbling dangerously. Aeryn scrutinised him, trying to see what he was doing wrong. It came a moment later.

"Use your arms to balance or otherwise you'll fall. Try and keep the arm on the opposite side in sync with the leg."

"You people make this look easy." Pilot complained, one arm extended too far as he tried to overcompensate. He glanced nervously at the black abyss on either side of the walkway. "And there are better places to learn."

There wasn't much Aeryn could say to that. "It can't be helped. Now, do the same thing again. Extend your other foot, transfer the weight and balance with your arm."

Pilot did it, this time managing to balance himself better.

"Now just keep going," Aeryn instructed. "That's all there is to it."

"All there is to it indeed!" Pilot sounded less than impressed. He moved forward tentatively, wobbling more than slightly but he seemed to be getting the hang of it. He staggered a few more steps, muttering words in his own language under his breath, as his arms waved all over the place. It was bizarre to watch.

"You're getting better," Aeryn said, trying to sound encouraging. Pilot chose not to deign the comment with a response, settling for an icy glare that spoke volumes more than words. He tottered once around the outside of the den, completing the circuit with slightly more grace than he started it. He paused, exchanged a friendlier look with Aeryn and went around again. This time he seemed to catch the rhythm of it more; by the time he reached the front, he was almost walking properly. He smiled tentatively.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," he said shakily.

Aeryn nodded. "You're a natural."

Pilot shot her an irritated glance. "That is not even close to being amusing."

He turned away, his eyes fixed on the door. "Oh, well," he said, sounding none to happy. "I can't really put this off any longer."

Casting an anxious glance back, he made his way awkwardly across the walkway. He reached the far side without incident, pausing by the door release. He looked back, meeting his own eyes almost plaintively. This chamber had been his world for the only part of his life that mattered. Could he really leave it behind?

But he had no choice. Moya needed him and he could not let her down. With a shaking hand, he punched the door lock. The door slid open with a hiss to reveal the corridor beyond; familiar but also virgin territory, the far unknown of a well-known world. For a microt, he couldn't move. He glanced back at Aeryn again, acknowledging her smile of encouragement. He had to do this. There was no going back. 

He took a deep breath.

Then with a single step, he left his world behind and disappeared into the corridor.

**********************************

There was so much space!

Jak grinned to himself as he jumped free of the hatchway of the shuttle, one hand wrapped firmly around his pulse rifle. He rose, gazing around at the vast cavernous expense of the leviathan's docking bay, golden hangers spreading away as far as the eye could see. There was air, room to move, room to fight and absolutely no danger of banging his head or catching his hair on fire. If only the ship had had weapons, he could have quite happily made it his home.

He glanced behind him as his men gathered, also wide-eyed at their expansive surrounds. Grajul was in raptures, staring at the bio-mechanoid technology, with eager fingers twitching with the urge to take it apart. Areni inadvertently bumped into the techs' back, too involved with staring up at the cathedral vault above to look where he was going.

"This is a big ship!" Jak heard him mutter.

The pirate chief shook himself. Enough self-indulgence. They needed to concentrate. It would be dangerous to let his awe for the vessel distract him into losing it. The surprising presence of a defence screen had hampered his plans for a quick surrender but the screen was obviously less than a success; one blow from his cannon had been enough to shock the ship into shutting down, taking it's defences with it. A pulse of electro-magnetic energy was enough to jolt open the Docking bay door and allow them on board. But they had to be careful. They had received no response from the ship's crew – true, it was possible that they had all departed on the pod that they had detected leaving the leviathan just before their attack – but Jak knew enough about leviathans to know that the Pilot at least would have remained. However, he knew very little of the Pilot species and had no idea if a lone Pilot would respond to such a threat without consulting a crew first. Jak judged his enemy by their reactions but he was finding it difficult to paint a mental picture of his adversary. He had no vocal response to judge by, nor any form of retaliation. What kind of person sits still and vulnerable until the very last instant before attack? Was it just the Pilot or was someone else pulling the strings? There was something more going on here and until he knew what, he would have to take great care.

"Stop day-dreaming!" he admonished sharply. "This is no easy ride. We have no idea what's waiting round the next corner. Keep your minds alert or at least pretend for my sake that you have them. Now, come on!"

Chastised, his men hurried to his side. Jak eyed the closed hanger door with wary precision. For all he knew, an entire battalion of vicious warriors could be lurking beyond those innocent golden curves, ready to reduce the Taurax invaders to piles of smoking ash the moment they hit the panel. A sudden concern gripped him. Was this all a trick? Had the leviathan truly shut down or was it all a dummy to lure them aboard so that their ground troops could engage in a little wholesale slaughtering? He went cold. He remembered the scans they had performed on the inert leviathan from the Mot-Halos. They had found no damage, no explanation for the shut down. Was this all a trap devised by some devious mind?

Well, he could be devious too.

"Areni, stay here with the men," he declared abruptly. "I'm going to scout the terrain."

His eyes fixed on an access shaft. He started forward and pulled away the vent, crawling quickly inside.

It was a less the pleasant experience. The shaft was narrow, cramped, and lined with ridges that grazed the bare skin of his arms. It smelt funny and vaguely sour and every so often his progress would be hindered by a small, lifeless yellow droid, sitting motionless and upside down on a protrusion. He discovered the source of the foul odour not long after; a cache of food, much of it half- rotten and inedible, that blocked his path, forcing him to crawl through it in order to continue. By the time he emerged, his vest was filled with crumbs, his arms sticky and smeared with goo and his nostrils felt as though they had been scoured with gelatine paste.He wiped away the worst of the refuge, pausing at a junction of shafts. Obviously this ship was infested with some kind of vile, hoarding pest. He would have to have it checked over by an exterminator before sale could go ahead.

Finally, Jak caught a glimpse of light ahead. Relieved, he doubled his pace, lost control of his descent and tumbled head first into a passageway. He rolled to his feet, casting about him with his rifle extended, but the corridor was silent and deserted. He took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure and bearings. He shook himself, glad to see that there was no one around to see him in this state and glanced around. He still found it hard to believe that a ship this size could have so little crew. 

Where was everyone?

He moved a few cautious steps down the corridor. Ahead, a small corridor branched off, a small dead-end leading to a closed doorway. Warily, the pirate moved ahead, rifle braced. He sneaked up to the door on cats' feet and paused, pressing one ear to the metal.

Voices! There were voices!

He'd been right! Jak bit down a surge of satisfaction. So they had sought to trick him, ambush him and catch him unprepared. But he had bested them! He had sussed their little game and now he would be victorious! No one made a fool out of Jak Cordak!

With a cry of triumph, Jak kicked back the door and burst into the maintenance bay.

He came face to face with Areni and Grajul.

There was a long moment of silence. Areni seemed more than a little taken aback by his sudden appearance. His eyes slid down his leader's dishevelled form, taking in the smears of fruit, scattered crumbs and none too pleasant odour. He clearly had no idea what to say.For his part, Jak stopped in his tracks, wild-eyed, his cry dying on his lips as he gripped his rifle before him with white-knuckled hands as he struggled to regain his composure.

"I thought I told you to wait outside," he said in a dreadfully quiet voice. Grajul recognised the tone immediately and was gone from sight in a flash. Areni bravely stood his ground.

"And, we would have of course," he replied reasonably. "But the crew returned in their pod. We hid as they investigated our shuttle and when they opened the hanger, we took them captive. Look."

He pointed behind him. In the midst of a circle of his men, staring warily at the rifle barrels that ringed them, was a cluster of aliens. There was a large, angry-looking Luxan, his eyes burning with a desire to strike out against his enemy, his fists clenched and his features an eloquent depiction of the kind of grim death that awaited them should he get free of their control. At his side was a tall, female Delvian, her arm rested gently on the Luxan's shoulder as she whispered in his ear, apparently trying to calm him down. A squat little Hynerian lay huddled on a floating sled, staring at the gun barrel shoved in his face with a mixture of fear and indignation. At his side, one hand gripping the back of the sled was a male Sebacean, dressed in clothes that looked like peacekeeper hand-me-downs. He was gazing across the bay, his eyes fixed on Jak. There was a sardonic twist to his lips.

He was laughing at him. His prisoner was laughing at him! Angrily, Jak shoved passed Areni, struggling to regain at least a shred of his tattered dignity. He snatched a cloth from one of the workbenches and wiped himself clean, his eyes fixed with icy menace upon the mocking eyes of the Sebacean. He glanced at Grajul, who was cowering nearby and immediately felt better. At least someone around here was still afraid of him.

"Grajul!" he snapped. The tech jumped a good foot in the air and then scurried over with a fawning expression, although Jak did note that he stayed just out of range of his chief's rangy arms.

"Yessir?" he said deferentially.

"Set up the comms monitor. I want to know if they're the only ones we have to deal with."

"Aye sir!" Grajul hurried back towards the shuttle. He emerged a moment later with a medium-sized black box. Scuttling towards the control console, he pulled off the intricate latticework covering and set to work linking in the device.

Jak watched for a moment, then lost interest. Trying to exude his customary menace, despite the unpromising start, the pirate sauntered over to where the prisoners were huddled, his gaze trained on the insolent Sebacean.

"Something amusing?" he drawled threateningly. "I don't think you're in any position to laugh at me!"

The Delvian placed her free hand on the Sebacean's arm but he didn't react, keeping his eye contact with Jak.

"Well when life sucks as much as it does right now, you have to keep your sense of humour!" he said dryly, his accent odd and unfamiliar.

Jak smiled grimly. "I suppose you do. But if I get so much as the slightest inkling that you are trying to make a fool out of me, you'll be wearing that smile on the back of your head. Clear?"

The Sebacean shrugged. "Oh, I don't think you need any help from me in that respect, pal!"

"John!" The Delvian exclaimed sharply but he didn't respond. Jak didn't either. He just glared.

"I'd pay attention to your friend," he said coldly. "She has more sense than you do."

The tension shimmered like fire. The eyes of the two men locked.

"Sir? I think I be in, sir!"

Grajul's call dissolved the moment. Fingering his weapon, his eyes watching the Sebacean's face as if to imply that it wasn't over, Jak turned away and went to join the tech.

******************************

To her credit, Zhaan restrained herself until the pirate leader was out of earshot, before she started to berate John.

"What the frell do you think you are doing?" she whispered sharply in his ear. "I would expect behaviour like that from D'Argo, but not from you, John. These people may hold our lives in their hands. We cannot afford to anger them!"

John sighed. "I'm sorry, Zhaany. The guy just pissed me off. Swaggering around like he owns the joint!"

"Right now, he does!" The Delvian released her grip on his arm although she continued to lean close. "We have no choice but to wait for our chance to strike. Aeryn, Chiana and Pilot are still free. Perhaps they can do something."

"If they could, don't you think they'd have done it already? Look around you, Zhaan. There's something wrong with Moya. There's no sound, no rhythm. It's almost like she's shut down entirely.

There was a long pause. John glanced back over his shoulder at the Delvian. She was gazing into the air, her features twisted with terrible recognition. Her eyes were haunted.

"Goddess, not again," she whispered softly.

"Zhaan?"

The priestess shook herself. She smiled wanly at John.

"Bad memories," she said softly.

John had no idea what she was talking about but decided this was no the time to ask. He was staring thoughtfully at the piecemeal shuttle in the docking bay.

"Zhaan, we all saw that ship that fired on Moya. Did it remind you of something?"

"Halos 1," It was not Zhaan but D'Argo who responded, apparently calmed enough to engage in a reasonable conversation. "It looked like Tek's ship."

John nodded. "Give the boy a gold star! Now when they shot at Moya, we all saw the defence screen go up, right? Do you guys remember what happened the last time we mixed Halosian firepower and our screen together?"

Zhaan and D'Argo hesitated, exchanging a glance.

"Frell!" D'Argo muttered. 

"My sentiments exactly. It could explain the lack of a welcoming committee and even why Moya's out for the count. If whoever ended in Pilot screwed up somehow or Moya took exception to them…"

He didn't need to finish. His shipmates knew exactly where he was leading.

"And if Aeryn, Chiana and Pilot are struggling to cope with alien bodies, we can't count on a rescue." D'Argo growled. "We will have to free ourselves."

"Hold that thought," John said. "This is all just speculation. We don't know what's happened. Let's at least wait until we can be sure, huh?"

"I agree," said Zhaan quickly. D'Argo did not look happy but nodded his consent.

A cry from across the room arrested their attention.

"I think I've isolated their comm frequency!" The squat tech was fiddling with his black box, eyes intense. The pirate leader was watching him scornfully.

"Well don't just stand there!" he exclaimed. "Tune it in! I want to know what we're dealing with!"

The black box hissed and buzzed. Distorted voices filled the air, twisted and contorted out of all recognition. Under the wrathful gaze of his superior, the tech twiddled and poked around inside his device. John, Zhaan and D'Argo exchanged glances as the signal twisted to coherency and the unmistakable if incomprehensible sound of Aeryn's voice echoed across the bay. But the question remained; was it Aeryn? Putting aside their own predicament, the captives bit down on their fears and listened.

***************************

"Is it much further?"

Pilot had tried to stay calm. He had done everything he could to fight the panic that had been rising in his soul every since the fateful moment when he stepped outside of his Chamber for the first time in his life. But it wasn't easy. Despite the unexpected ease with which he had adapted to manipulating Aeryn's body, it still felt uncomfortable, chafing like an ill-fitting garment as he moved haltingly through Moya's lower tiers. The silence burned his ears; he simply could not get used to having his mind to himself again. Aeryn's brain was coping much better with his mode of thought than Chiana's or D'Argo's ever had, but he still felt limited somehow, restricted by the smaller number of parallel strands he was able to achieve. Admittedly, since his disconnection from Moya he didn't need so many. Indeed, it was probably a good thing in a way, for without Moya's functions to occupy his mind, the few strands he had mastered were all devoted to various levels of anxiety. But it felt wrong. This wasn't the way he was supposed to think. He felt diminished, his senses restricted, his movements unnatural, his vision inferior and perspective confused. Everything was so familiar, but yet wildly out of place. He knew it all, knew every corner, curve and access duct, every conduit and vent, but he had never before viewed Moya from this height, this angle, with these eyes. Everything looked different and even though there was no one alive who knew this ship better than he did, he felt almost like a stranger, stepping unbidden into a whole new world.

"You tell me! It's your frelling ship!" Aeryn's response was uncharacteristically harsh. The peacekeeper did not appear to be adapting to her new form any better than Pilot was; she had been short with him and disgruntled ever since his departure.

Pilot was not in the mood to be snapped at."I fly the ship!" he retorted."I don't wander around inside it!"

"Well you ought to know it well enough!" Aeryn's voice contained an unusual level of stress. "You see it everyday through the DRDs and the clamshells!"

"Those are completely different angles!"Pilot's voice shrilly, reflecting his rising anxiety. "It's either high or low! This is the middle! I am not used to the middle!"

There was an impatient huff at the other end of the commlink. Pilot couldn't help but feel that Aeryn was being unreasonable about this. He could feel his stress level achieving greater heights with each passing microt and fought desperately to hold it down. Aeryn's legs were wobbling dangerously; exhausted beyond all reason, Pilot tottered to the wall and rested Aeryn's dark ahead against it, fighting to control himself. He took several deep breaths, trying to focus.

"This is taking forever! Can't you go any faster?" Aeryn's intervention was ill timed. 

Pilot bit back the inappropriate response that hovered on his lips. He admonished himself silently. _Focus, endure. Stay in control._

"Could you please be a little more tolerant?" he replied plaintively, but there was a snappish edge lurking just beneath the surface. "I only learned to walk a quarter arn ago!"

Precariously, he pushed Aeryn's body upright, and moved on, setting a brisk but wary pace. It was a dangerous act. His balance was uncertain and only the speed of his movement from one step to the next kept him from falling. He turned a corner recklessly, almost too fast and stumbled on a DRD. He careened forward, arms waving madly as he fought to avoid a tumble, confused and disorientated by the movement of body parts he knew nothing about, barely able to extend his hands in time as he crashed headfirst into a wall. Breathing hard, he stepped back, as he struggled to gather the ragged shreds of his dignity, glad that no one was around to see. He was overwhelmed by a sudden irrational urge to blame somebody.

"It's hard enough just keeping upright without these… things at the front!" he snapped down the comm link. "They distract me when I'm trying to concentrate!"

"What are you talking about?"

"They affect my balance! And the way they move – it's disconcerting!"

"Disconcerting? What do you mean?"

"They bounce!"

"They do _not_!" Aeryn did not appear to appreciate the observation.

"Yes, they do! You must have noticed!"

"You're as bad as Crichton!"

"I resent that!" Pilot's response was indignant. "I have no interest in them other than the fact that they are making my life difficult!" He started to walk again, but slipped, his face swallowed by a curtain of black. Angrily, he pushed it back. "And having this hair of yours in my face all the time doesn't help either!"

"Is there any other part of my body you'd like to criticise?" Aeryn sounded irate. "Or can I start on yours?"

"There is nothing wrong with my body!"

"What apart from the fact you can't frelling move? How do you live like this? I'd go mad stuck in one place all the time!"

_ _

_Sounds like you already have_, Pilot thought uncharitably, but he wisely kept it to himself. His mind was whirring, buzzing with concern, fear, indignation and anxiety, tumbling over and over each other, mixing in an explosive cocktail that was rapidly pushing the navigator to the edge of outright hysteria. "Right now, Aeryn, I would welcome being stuck in one place!" Something inside him seemed to snap; he felt an all-engulfing urge to find a quite corner, curl up in a ball and cry. Gasping, tearful, suddenly broken, he released his frustration in a torrent of words. " This isn't what I do! I am not accustomed to this kind of motion! I stay still, I listen and I react! I do not run around the ship making frelling repairs!"

Aeryn must have sensed his distress. Her response was temperate but firm.

"Calm down. You're getting hysterical!"

"Good! I _want _to be hysterical! I _like_ being hysterical! I'm _good_ at being hysterical!"

There was a resigned sigh from the other end of the commlink. When Aeryn spoke, her voice sounded strained. "Will you please stop panicking? This isn't easy for me either, you know! This isn't what I do either! I'm a peacekeeper! We don't sit in one place, waiting for someone else to do our work! We react! We take action! But I can't take frelling action because thanks to those dren-cursed pirates, I can't frelling move anymore!"

There was a moment of silence. Pilot felt a wash of shame. He'd been so focussed on his own problems, his own fears and frustrations, it had never occurred to him that Aeryn might be feeling exactly the same. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to be calm, reaching for his inner focus and halting the frantic spiral of his multitude of thoughts. Firmly he sorted through the strands, pulling forward the more positive ones and relegating the terrified swirl of his fears to the back. Once he was confident that he was back in control, he opened his eyes and spoke.

"I know. I'm sorry."His voice was genuinely contrite. He felt a sudden need to explain himself. "It's just that I'm not used to living like this. When things change, I get upset. When I get upset, I panic. I can't help it. Panicking is one of the few things in life I've ever been able to do really well!"

There was a laugh from the other end. "I'll second that!"

"Hey!" Pilot tried to sound annoyed, but he couldn't help but smile. "You were not supposed to agree!"

"Sorry," Aeryn sounded friendlier. The more light-hearted exchange appeared to have done the trick. "I think we'd better get on. Are you anywhere near that junction yet?"

Pilot cast around, trying to compare his old awareness of the ship with his current visual perspective. It wasn't easy. Golden walls gleamed, their shapes half-shrouded in shadow due to the dimness of Moya's lights. Pilot frowned.

"Well, it's around here somewhere," he offered blandly, trying to hide his confusion. He glanced around at the corridors and walls, golden arches arcing to the ceiling to vanish into shadow. A strange coldness rose within his chest. Where the frell was he?

He had never realised before just how alike the different parts of Moya looked. His ability to distinguish between then was based on his knowledge of the conduits and vents that catacombed the tiers. But those crucial landmarks were invisible from here. He realised that in his distraction during the argument with Aeryn, he'd completely lost his bearings. It was painful to admit it, especially for a navigator and a supposed expert on leviathan physiology, but the fact was unavoidable.

He was lost.

He couldn't tell Aeryn. He'd never live it down. Embarrassment rose within him; he felt Aeryn's cheeks warm and glow, a disconcerting sensation to which he was not accustomed. He remembered descending several tiers and passing one of the lower amnexus chambers, but that had been a while ago. He had moved quite some way since then, changing tiers and striding down corridors. He glanced around, but could see no revealing doors or chambers. The passage stretched into darkness ahead of him, curving away around a gentle corner. Behind him lay a junction, splitting off in three directions but for the life of it, he couldn't remember which one he'd come from. Panic began to rise within him; he suddenly felt isolated and very alone. What was he going to do?

"Pilot? Are you all right?" His own voice broke into his thoughts, scattered with Aeryn's distinctive nuances. "You went very quiet there for a microt."

"Sorry," Pilot shook himself. "I was just trying to get my bearings," he said, trying to hide his true situation. "I got a little distracted and…"

"You're lost." Aeryn's precise response cut straight to the heart of the matter. Pilot winced.

" I wouldn't say I'm lost, exactly," He ventured. "I just… cannot pinpoint my location at present."

"In other words, you're lost." Aeryn sounded mildly amused. Pilot fought to hold down the flush of embarrassment. He was never going to live this down!

"Never mind," The peacekeeper said cheerfully. "It happens to the best of us. I think the best thing you can do is just carry on until you see something you recognise. That way, we can…"

Abruptly, the transmission cut. An ugly hiss rose to fill the silence.

It took a moment to register. Pilot glanced sharply at his comm, staring at it in shock. For a moment, that was all he could do, just stare as though staring alone would restore the link. But nothing happened.

"Aeryn?" he ventured. There was no answer

"Aeryn?" His voice rose shrilly. He tapped at the comm.

"Aeryn!" A frantic note penetrated his voice. He yanked at the comm, attacked it, but it continued to hiss spitefully. Then suddenly, it went quiet, even that slight noise gone. The darkened corridors were still and cold. The shadows seemed to stare.

The silence was awesome.

Pilot felt dizzy. He breathed hard, lurching against the wall as he fought to rein in the hysteria battering his soul. This couldn't be happening! Where was Aeryn? What had happened? Why had she abandoned him, left him to fend for himself, to struggle on…

Alone.

The word was terrifying. Alone.

He was alone.

Frell! He could handle anything but that!

He could barely breathe. Silence and being alone. The two things he feared most in the world. The two things that, on his joining to Moya, he thought he'd never have to face again. He could remember the chill in his heart when he had disconnected himself from Moya, sat in silence, alone in his chamber.

But Moya had still been there. He could still feel her pulse.

And when she had passed on, lost to him, he'd been trapped in darkness, condemned to die a solitary, silent death.

But Zhaan had come.

Zhaan was not going to come now. No one was. Only one person knew he was out here and she didn't know where he was. He didn't know where he was!

He was on his own.

Completely on his own.

How was he supposed to go on?

This time, it was all too much. Slumping disconsolate against the wall, Pilot sank to the floor and cried.

END OF PART TWO.

   [1]: mailto:jesspallas@hotmail.com



	2. Part three

In The Flesh – Part Three

In The Flesh – Part Three.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at [jesspallas@hotmail.com][1]

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Reference to OOTM and LATP,TWWW and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note:This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Recap: Moya has been attacked by pirates in the salvaged Halos 1. As a result, Aeryn and Pilot have now switched bodies, Moya has mysertiously shut down and Chiana is missing. The rest of the crew, in a transport pod at the time of the attack, have been captured and taken prisoner. The pirate leader, Jak, after evesdropping over the comms, has jammed the transmission, leaving Pilot in Aeryn's body, lost in Moya's lower tiers…

"We're frelled."

Rygel's simple statement quite accurately summed up the way John was feeling at that moment. The human stared at the dim lights on the ceiling, wondering who exactly it was up there that hated them enough to dump them in this situation again. The conversation between Pilot and Aeryn had confirmed their worst fears beyond any shadow of a doubt. There was no way that Aeryn would ever let herself get that upset. There was no way that Pilot would have snapped back with quite such force. Even if it hadn't been for the use of Aeryn's name to address Pilot and Pilot commenting on it being Aeryn's ship, he would have known who was who. He knew them too well to even consider it could be anyone else.

John closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. Aeryn would have been their best chance of a rescue, but now she was trapped in Pilot's chamber, isolated and unable to act. And now their last hope lay in the hands of a confused, disorientated and decidedly hysterical Pilot. He had nothing against Pilot. He liked the guy. But coping with stress was not his strong suit. He barely knew how to move in his new body. He certainly had no idea what he was doing. The chance of his mounting a successful rescue was slim at best; in all reality, it was probably none-existent. Pilot was just not action hero material. He'd got lost on his own ship, for God's sake!

True there was Chiana. But where was she? She obviously hadn't made contact with Aeryn or Pilot. Perhaps she was asleep or sulking in her room, but John couldn't see how she could have failed to notice the attack. The whole of Moya must have shook, for frells sake! So why hadn't she done anything? Perhaps she had latched on more quickly to what was going on and was hiding out somewhere, waiting for the right moment to leap to the rescue. But for reasons he couldn't begin to explain, John had a feeling that this wasn't the case. He had a nagging anxiety lurking deep in his chest, a worry that he couldn't place but refused to go away. Why hadn't Chiana been affected by the body-swapping when Aeryn and Pilot so obviously had?

"Areni!"

The summons from the pirate leader drew John's attention. He glanced across the room at the tall, rangy invader- Jak, his men called him – with his close cropped golden hair, streaked with black, his gleaming goldenish skin and his cold black eyes. John had watched as he had listened to the conversation between Aeryn and Pilot, watched as his smug smile stretched to fill his features as he gauged the state of mind of his two remaining threats. It was the smile of a hunter, a predator, but also of a gamesman, a player. He would take them, but he would make sure to have fun with it too.

The second in command was already at his side, smaller, darker and less intense, but groomed like a peacock. There was a man who thought a lot of himself – and expected others to think it too.

"Yes, Jak?" he asked deferentially.

"Take a detachment to the lower tiers and secure the Pilot. Then take a few men and start hunting for this other one, this female." Jak's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "But be careful; there was something not quite right about that whole thing. For a while there, I wasn't sure which one was which."

The second nodded. "I will be. Don't worry."

He turned to leave, beckoning to his men. Jak gazed thoughtfully at the console.

"And Areni?" he called. The smaller man turned. Jak did not even look up.

"I don't care how pretty that female is. I don't want any… relations, until later. Clear?"

Obviously, this was a problem that he'd had before. Areni smiled cockily.

"Well that rather depends on her reaction to me!" he replied suggestively. "You know the ladies can't keep their hands off me!"

"Well, then tie the blind razt up!" Jak drawled sweetly, but there was iron in his voice. 

Areni looked disappointed. He pulled a face behind his leaders back.

"I saw that," Jak hadn't turned. His voice was mild but sharpened edges danced along its rim. Areni gulped and bolted out the door. Grinning amongst themselves, his men followed.

Jak smiled coldly to himself and glanced up at the dozen or so who remained.

"Edril!" he called. "Take your brothers and do a sweep of the upper tiers. And while you're at it, see if you can locate the command. I don't want to stay down here forever."

A burly, black haired giant stepped forward with a nod. "What you want us to do if we find someone?" he said, his deep voice rolling slowly across the room.

Jak shrugged. "Bring them here for now." He glanced up and met John's eyes. A slow smile spread across his face. "We'll decide what to do with these Jeebos later."

John did not rise to the bait, although he could feel his fury rising inside. He felt so helpless, with no idea what to do or how to act. Aeryn was already in danger and Pilot would be rounded up soon after. If only he knew what had happened to Chi, maybe they could have co-ordinated something. But he didn't and he could be certain of nothing. All he could do was wait.

He looked up and caught Jak staring at him, his expression gloating. John bit down dark thought and looked away. There was one thing he was certain of; if he got the slightest chance, he was going to wipe the smile off that moron's face for good!

**************************

Aeryn felt like screaming.

It had been a moment before she realised the comms had gone dead. For a microt, she thought she had made a mistake, done something, touched something that had severed the link. Forcing herself to remain composed, she had checked over every readout and panel that still functioned, twiddling and tweaking in an attempt to cajole the internal comms back into life. But it had been in vain. Nothing had worked. All she managed to get was an ugly hiss that seemed to fill the vast acres of Pilot's mind and whisper insidiously that she had failed. Aeryn knew that sound of old. The multiple stands of her newly expanded mind jumped back against her will, fixing upon a memory, the terrible memory of the Rani invasion not so long before. She remembered how helpless she had felt, how cut off and isolated and experienced those same emotions anew but magnified a thousand fold. At least when the Rani had boarded Moya, she'd been able to act. She'd run the corridors, gathering friends to repel the invaders, protecting Pilot through that terrible succession of struggles in the Den. But now she was helpless. She couldn't move, couldn't escape or go to her friends aid, couldn't fight and save the day. She didn't even have a weapon for Pilot had taken her pulse pistol and the DRDs were offline. She remembered her conversation with Pilot the day before the Rani had violated Moya, remembered how he had confided in her about how helpless and trapped he had felt, unable to defend himself if he lost control of Moya. Sitting alone in the vast cavernous darkness, surrounded by dead panels and lifeless DRDs, Aeryn knew exactly how he must have felt.

And it made her feel like screaming.

Aeryn was not equipped for waiting. The silence echoed in the recesses of her head; the darkness seemed to glisten. She could feel dozens of frantic thoughts tumbling over and over in her mind and she struggled desperately to control them, but it was futile. She felt closed in, claustrophobic, a ridiculous sensation in such a vast and spacious room, but she was not a part of that space, but confined, limited in it's centre. She felt as though she was on the verge of going insane. Desperately, she wished for something to break the terrible monotony.

She should have been more careful what she wished for.

The lazy hum of the door snapped her attention to the front. For a brief euphoric instant, she thought that Pilot had somehow found his way back to her. But it took only a microt to realise that this was not Pilot – nor indeed anyone else she knew. She suppressed a shiver of apprehension and braced herself, arms extended, body half-reared. Trapped or not, she had no intention of going down without a fight.

Silhouettes filled the door, tall, male, threatening, guns held loosely with the ease of practice. A single figure, slightly smaller, but dark, with dancing eyes and a cocky smile, stepped to the fore, hefting his rifle casually.

"I don't think you want to do that," he drawled easily.

In microts his gun was cocked, barrel levelled at Aeryn's forehead. His smile was cold; his finger itched on the trigger. Instinctively, despite knowing there was nowhere to go, Aeryn shrunk back.

The invader laughed. He pulled the trigger.

Aeryn ducked, eyes closed as she waited for the pain of the killer shot. It never came. A cascade of warm sparks showered her. She opened her eyes to find her invaders were laughing.

Aeryn felt a flush of anger. How dare he make a fool of her like that? She didn't know why he had veered his aim at the last moment, but she intended to make sure that the moment he came within her reach, it would be the last mistake he'd ever make.

The pirate seemed unaware of her anger, arrogantly confident that he was in control. Heedless of the danger, he sauntered forward, his rifle resting cockily on one shoulder as he moved across the walkway. Aeryn braced carefully as he came closer and closer, grinning smugly. He was almost in her reach. _Just a little further…_

"I am Areni!" he announced, as if Aeryn cared less. "I am second of the Motchat clan of the Taurax pirates. We have claimed this ship as bounty. That means, my oversized friend, that from now on, you will service us!"

_Frell that!_ Aeryn thought to herself as she watched him intently, lurking just outside of her grasp. _One more step…_

"As you can see, we have the superior firepower," Areni droned on arrogantly. "And if you disobey us, we will make you pay." He grinned. "Next time, I won't miss."

Wavering his weapon casually, he swaggered forward; into Aeryn's reach. She struck like lightning. Before Areni even knew what was happening, she had snatched his rifle from his grasp and dragged him across the console by his tunic front, pressing his shocked features against hers.

"You want to try that again?" she drawled.

A number of clicks sounded around her; Aeryn looked up to find herself targeted by half-a-dozen weapons. She hesitated, taking a moment to drink in the fear on Areni's features; for an instant she was tempted to do away with him and frell the consequences.But this was Pilot's body; he wouldn't thank her for getting him killed. With distinct reluctance and an angry growl, she hurled Areni away. He flew backwards, arms and legs flailing as his men scattered, to land flat on his back on the walkway.

The pirate scrambled to his feet, glaring at the sniggers that rose from the ranks. He shook his shoulders and straightened his tunic, snatching a rifle from another pirates grasp. Struggling to regain his trampled pride, he levelled the gun between Aeryn's eyes. His expression was dark.

"The only reason I won't kill you now is because we need this ship online!" he said, his voice dripping with menace. His eyes were bleak and cold, a cruel smile twisting the corners of his lips.

"We have your friends," he said suddenly. Aeryn went cold inside. "The Sebacean, the Delvian, the Luxan and the Hynerian. You have five arns to get this ship functioning again. Otherwise, we'll kill one an arn until it's done. Understood?"

He didn't wait for a reply. "Ragit! Nuin! You stay here and make sure our new servicer behaves himself. We're off to find that female!"

He turned and stormed out, the rest of his men trailing behind. The two left behind, both big, burly, featureless creatures, turned and aimed their guns at Aeryn. She noted however, that they stayed carefully out of her reach.

Aeryn breathed hard. Now what the frell was she going to do? She couldn't bring Moya online; she had no idea what was wrong with her. She was helpless from here, her panels down, her knowledge insufficient, motion impossible. But if she didn't do something, the pirates would slaughter the others in five arns time. Frell!

She cursed silently. Helpless again. Her only hope was that by some miracle, Pilot would evade the searchers and manage to figure out just what the frell was going on. She remembered the mood he'd been in and felt her hope drain away. She could only imagine the kind of hysteria he'd experienced when he found the link was cut!

Well, there was nothing she could do. She could feel the boring gaze of her guards; anxious to allay their suspicions, she began touching panels at random, pretending to work. Outside, she maintained the façade of calm. Inside, her heart was racing. She could do nothing; nothing but pray that by some fluke or act of mercy, Pilot would save the day.

_Frell, don't let them catch him!_

_ _

*************************************

It was the ominous sound of footsteps echoing from behind that snapped Pilot out of his miserable reverie. He had remained curled up between two of Moya's bulkheads for an uncertain length of time, too afraid to even move, let alone act. He had been disconcerted to find that his separation from Moya had thrown his emotions into flux; however hard he tried, however much he wanted to, he simply could not get control of himself. But at the sound of approaching feet, his mind leapt into alertness. For a wonderful moment, he thought that it was Chiana or the others returned and sent by Aeryn to find him. But it took less than a microt for that thought to evaporate; the footsteps were heavy and regular and too numerous to belong to friends. Perhaps Crichton or D'Argo could have achieved that heaviness of tread but Zhaan and Chiana could not. So these were not the feet of rescuers. They were someone else's. But whose?

Pilot was not foolish enough to wait around and find out. Ahead, half-hidden in a shadowed alcove, a small grate opened into an air shaft. Rising precariously to his feet, Pilot hurried forward and pulled the grate from the wall. For a moment, he stared into the dark, cramped space beyond, its destination lost to oblivion and felt apprehension fill his soul. But it was that or be caught. Taking a deep breath, Pilot squeezed inside and pulled the grate closed behind him.

He was only just in time. From around the corner strode a cluster of strangers, tall with golden skin and emotionless eyes that fell away like hollow voids. They were dressed in a variety of loose vests and tunics, with tight trousers and gun holsters and ammunition strapped to baldrics across their chest. All were gripping a variety of mean looking rifles.

Pilot felt his breath stop; he recognised their kind at once, feared and renowned throughout the sector.

Taurax pirates!

For a microt, Pilot thought they were going to simply march on passed, but all at once, the shorter, dark haired pirate at the fore, raised his arm and called a halt, just inches from Pilot's hiding place. Warily, the navigator shrunk back. He felt his footing give slightly to the rear and fought to steady himself without making a noise.

"This is taking too long," The dark pirate exclaimed. "If we're going to find that female on a ship this size, we'll have to split up."

Female? Pilot paused, listening carefully. Was Chiana nearby then? Was she on the run? Then a terrible thought occurred to him. What if the pirates had done more than jam the comms? What if they had listened in as well? If they had overhead and blocked his conversation with Aeryn, then this female they searched for could be him!

"Areni, this ship is a maze!" One of his companions protested. "How the frig will we find our way back?"

"Easy," The one called Areni reached into a pouch, and handed the speaker a small, silvery device. "You can stay here with this homing beacon. We'll spread out and meet back here in a couple of arns. I'm sure we can find our way back to that maintenance bay from here or at least back to Ragit and Nuin and the Pilot."

"Why should I have to stay?" the pirate declared. "Just leave the thing here and be done with it!"

His leader smiled. "It has to be guarded, Unrar. What if our elusive female were to steal it?"

"You want me to just stand here for a couple of arns?" The protester was aghast.

Areni shrugged. "You volunteered."

Ignoring the indignant expression of his subordinate, the pirate turned and started towards a passage.

"Esord, Michal, you're with me. The rest of you scatter. Meet back here in two arns." He grinned wolfishly. "Unrar will be waiting."

Pilot felt his heart drop as he watched the other pirates leave. His gaze fixed on the lone figure that remained, the one called Unrar, who, having completed a long glare in the direction of the departing Areni, sighed loudly and slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor as he figured the homing beacon. He was huge and burly, with massive hands, light hair and a grim, almost brutal expression. Pilot had ample opportunity to study him. He was sitting directly opposite the vent.

Pilot took a quiet breath. Now what was he going to do? He allowed himself a moment to mutter a few choice swearwords in his own language. For some reason, he found it infinitely more satisfying than using the simple verbal swearwords of his crew. When they swore, it was just words. But in his native tongue, a swearword could contain dozens of different levels of disgust, anger and frustration all compacted into a single profound sound. When he swore, it had resonance.

But unfortunately, it did not help his situation. It became quickly apparent that despite his dissatisfaction, the pirate was going nowhere. That ruled out any escape back into the passageway. He would not stand even the remotest chance of getting passed Unrar without being seen. So he was left with two choices; wait here for two arns until the pirates returned and departed the area, or abandon his position, and head down into the darkness behind him. His eyesight was much diminished; he could barely see a thing of what lay in that direction. But there was no help for it. Pilot was a patient being but not that patient. He would take the vent.

Carefully, gingerly, he tried to turn. But there was simply no space for manoeuvring. Pilot hesitated a moment, then as quietly as he could, he extended one foot behind him and reached back.

The ground disappeared.

He had no time to catch himself. He felt himself slip, slide, his balance lost as he scrambled as quietly as he could to prevent the fall. His efforts were in vain. He felt the ground open up beneath him as he tumbled into solid blackness, slipping, scraping, turning head over heel in a helter-skelter downward fall. He could see nothing, nothing but swiftly moving blackness all around as he felt himself bounce and bump along the chute, grazing his skin in little bursts of pain, as he hurtled helpless, frantic into the abyss below.

For a few microts he thought he would fall forever, that he would tumble from the ship as D'Argo had once done to drift and die in space. But suddenly, the gradient lessened, a hint of light appeared below and all at once he found himself flying forwards into open air to land unceremoniously in a pool of amnexus fluid. For a moment, he didn't move, stunned and half in shock, motionless, eyes fixed and wide, breath coming in short, terse gasps. He could only lie there, on his back, floating in the amber pond as he gazed with unseeing eyes into the vast cavern above him. A huge tract of empty space filled his eyes, rounded, sculpted, vaulted walls, a slender column rising in pulse like waves, tethered to the wall by flying walkways. The high ceiling of the chamber was lost to the darkness.

He knew this place…

It took a microt to register. A combination of the shock of his fall and the unusual perspective had slowed his thinking but as his eyes adjusted, fixed on the familiar forms and features of his home, he felt a sudden rush of euphoric recognition.

His chamber! He was at the foot of his chamber!

He knew where he was!

Abruptly, he sat up. Ignoring the uncomfortable ooze, he shook himself and glanced around. To his left, the walls rose, steeply impenetrable. To his right, moulding seamlessly into the floor was the lowest neural cluster, the far wall lost in the darkness behind it. But he didn't need to see it. He already knew that there was no door on this level. If he wanted out, he would have to climb the ladder in the neural cluster until he reached a level with a walkway.

It was at that point that he became aware of exactly how uncomfortable he was. Wrinkling Aeryn's nose, he glanced down. Aeryn's pale skin was dripping with moisture, her hair matted and tangled. Her clothing was pasted with amber liquid and he could feel the slow seep as the boots slowly filled up as well.

It was definitely time to get up.

Shaking himself with disgust, Pilot reluctantly hauled Aeryn's body to its feet. He felt battered, bruised; every inch of skin felt raw. He thought of what Aeryn's reaction would be when he returned her body in this state and winced. She was going to kill him!

Awkwardly, he waded to the edge of the pool. Leaning on the curved edge, he tenderly hauled first one leg, then the other over the barrier, to stand, dripping, on the rutted floor. With a sigh, he moved slowly forward across the uneven vaulted floor in the direction of the neural cluster, stripping amnexus fluid from the skin with his hands. This was just typical! This kind of thing always seemed to happen to him! Well at least he knew where he was now. The question was what to do next. He could climb the neural clusters to where Aeryn waited in his body, but he had got the impression from Areni's words that the pirates had beaten him to it. There was no point in struggling all that way up just to get himself captured. No, his best bet would probably be to use the vents to reach the maintenance bay. Areni had mentioned that too and he got the impression that it was the mustering point for the pirates. If he could stay out of sight, do a little reconnaissance, maybe he could come up with some way to…

The thought broke off. Something caught the corner of his eye; a patch of red, out of place in Moya's golden halls. He paused at the entrance to the neural cluster, weakened eyes searching the black to get a better look. But it was impossible from here. He needed to get closer.

But should he? Caution stayed his steps. He should be getting on, trying to find a way to revive Moya and free Aeryn, not indulging his whims and wasting time. But other strands of thought intruded. What if this was some new danger to Moya? What if it were the reason she was unconscious? He owed it to her to investigate.

Curiosity got the better of him. Moving cautiously, he stepped around the edge of the neural cluster to take a better look.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

Pilot stumbled back, eyes tight shut, hand clamped to his mouth. An unfamiliar sensation rose, rolling in Aeryn's stomach; all at once he staggered aside and collapsed to his knees, retching furiously before throwing up on the floor.

He took him several microts to recover. He breathed hard, wincing at the unpleasant taste in his mouth and the unpleasant memory of what he had just seen. He shuddered, leaned against the edge of the neural cluster and tried to slow his racing heart.

He had forgotten about the Rani.

With all that had happened, first the original bout of body swapping, then Moya's shut down, his memories of his earlier brush with death had been pushed to one side. But now, they returned in a flood. The Rani's cynical expression and cold smile as he charged into his chamber, Aeryn hot on his heels, the fight, Aeryn's stumble and his reflex push that had allowed the peacekeeper to throw his would be murderer from the walkway. Once the Rani had disappeared into the black below, he'd assumed he was gone for good. He had forgotten the rather graphic evidence his passing after such a fall would leave behind. He would not make that mistake again. The remains were beyond recognition, and scattered over a fairly wide area. That was the kind of thing that stuck in the mind.

He did not want to stay here. Pilot rose quickly, wiping Aeryn's mouth and turned to enter the neural cluster. Something crunched under his foot; he hesitated, not too keen to look after his first gruesome discovery. But whatever it was did not feel like remains. Once again, curiosity won out. Slowly, he bent and lifted the thing, hefting it in one hand.

Small, black and compact, the device fitted neatly into Aeryn's palm. It looked bent, and one panel was loose, revealing twisted machinery. Pilot raised an eyebrow. It appeared the Rani device had survived the fall somewhat better than it's master.

Cautiously he poked at it. Nothing happened. He paused, thinking back to the last time he had seen this innocent looking piece of technology reap its devastating effect. He remembered the way it had brought dormant parts of Moya to life, and exploded Aeryn's pulse pistol and several DRDs. It was damaged now of course. But if he could fix it…

This thing could be very useful.

Gazing thoughtfully at his potential ship saver, Pilot turned and entered the neural cluster. He needed to know what he was up against.

It was time to head for the maintenance bay.

*********************************

Edril was a simple man. His size and physical strength, an asset in the piracy game, had made him indispensable and the fact that he never questioned the commands of those cleverer than he had made him popular with the likes of Jak and Areni, the men who of course, it was vital to impress. He was loyal, and did as he was told and he had the strength and reputation for quick and brutal violence to make sure that those around him did the same. As a result, when it came to leading mindless tasks, Edril was the first choice every time.

So it had been without question that he had accepted Jak's charge to investigate the upper tiers of the ship. But the big man had to admit, there was something about this place that made him feel uneasy. He knew leviathans were living ships, with minds and consciousnesses of their own and that kind of unguided independence of thinking made a man of his unthinking obedience more than a little perturbed. True, there were few signs of life – the corridors were dark and shadowed, the lights dim and silence filled the air like the hush of a grave – but that didn't help much; indeed it only made him more nervous. He wasn't afraid – he didn't have the imagination for it – but he couldn't shake the uncomfortable impression that he was wandering through the entrails of a corpse.

"Edril! Over here!"

The summons caught his attention. Face fixed and blank, the burly pirate strode over to where one of his companions was staring into a dark cell, his expression a mixture of interest and surprise. Edril moved to his side.

"What?" he said brusquely.

The other pirate shrugged and pointed into the darkness. "Take a look."

Edril followed his finger. The cell looked to be occupied on a regular basis, clothing and jewellery scattered around in an untidy jumble, a bed covered by a golden sheet at rest between the double doors. But it was not the furniture nor even the jewellery that caught Edril's attention.

It was the girl.

She lay curled up in a tight, foetal ball in the far recesses of the cell, her face buried in her knees, her hands gripping her head so tightly it was a miracle she hadn't drawn blood. She was shaking, muffled whimpering sounds, emerging from the crook of her lap as she rocked and shivered as though in some mild seizure. Her hair was bold white, her skin a duller grey, features that Edril recognised at once as Nebari. Her face, pressed down into her lap, was invisible. 

She looked sick. Edril glanced at his companion, reluctant to approach in case whatever afflicted her was catching.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked gruffly. "Did you do something?"

"Not me," the other pirate replied, eyes still fixed on the strange little Nebari. "She was like that when I got here." He looked up at Edril. "What do we do with her?"

Edril knew exactly what to do. He'd been given orders.

"Boss said all prisoners to be taken to the maintenance bay," he answered confidently.

His companion looked sceptical. "You sure? If she'll sick, we'll all catch it."

Edril fixed him with a stubborn expression

"The Boss said," he repeated firmly. "You go get her. Take her to the maintenance bay."

"Me?" His subordinate was less than enthusiastic but his protest died on his lips when he met Edril's gaze and read the threats of terrible violence written in its layers.

He gulped, biting back his reluctance. "I'll take her," he said quickly.

With a well-hidden sigh, he started forward, picking his way through the mess of the room to where the Nebari lay crouched on the floor. He stared at her for a moment, not quite sure how to approach this. The last thing he wanted to do was touch her.

"Hey, you! Girl!" he snapped, hefting his rifle in a threatening manner. "Get up!"

There was no response. The Nebari continued to shake and whimper in her self-contained little ball. The pirate glanced back over his shoulder, caught the look on Edril's face and quickly turned back.

"I said get up!" he commanded. "What are you, deaf?"

Roughly he poked her with the muzzle of his rifle. She flinched away but did not move.

The pirate felt his temper rising. "Do as I tell you!" he roared, jamming his rifle into her side. But still she would not rise.

The pirate lost all patience. "Up now!" he bellowed. His anger overrode his fears. Lunging forward, he grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted her head to face him.

Edril did not expect what happened next. His subordinate yanked his hand away with a garbled oath and scrambled back, swearing and cursing as he stumbled over furniture and his own feet in his haste to get away. As he reached the doorway, apparently intending to escape right passed, Edril closed his bruising fingers on his arm and dragged him back.

"Where you going?" he snapped. "I told you to bring the girl!"

He paused, catching his first proper look at his companion's face. His eyes were wide, his expression taut and breathless, his skin beaded with sweat. Shock and fear were scrawled on every feature.

"What's the matter with you?" Edril said.

"The girl! The girl!" The pirate was garbling. "She ain't normal!"

"I can see that." Edril was not impressed by this apparent cowardice. "That's no reason not to do what I just told you."

"No! You don't understand! She's a spirit or a ghost or something! Her eyes, Edril! Her eyes!"

He wasn't making any sense. "What about her eyes?" Edril asked impatiently.

The pirate met his gaze, his expression filled with terror.

"They glowed!" he gasped. "Her eyes were glowing blue!"

END OF PART THREE.

   [1]: mailto:jesspallas@hotmail.com



	3. Parts four and five

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In The Flesh – Part Four.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at [jesspallas@hotmail.com][1]

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Reference to OOTM and LATP,TWWW and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note:This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Recap: Moya has been taken over by pirates who salvaged the stricken Halos 1. As a result of their attack, Aeryn and Pilot have switched bodies and Moya has shut down. The rest of the crew, in a transport at the time of the attack, have been taken prisoner as has Aeryn-in-Pilot. Pilot, still at large in Aeryn's body, has discovered the Rani device on the lower tiers. And the pirates have found the missing Chiana – whose eyes are mysteriously glowing blue…

This was getting old.

John sighed wearily. Just how much longer were they going to be left sitting here? He glanced around at his companions; Zhaan with her azure features, taut with worry; D'Argo, dark and brooding like a rumbling volcano, ready to explode with a force that would obliterate all in his path; and Rygel, now dumped on a heap on the floor, his eyes alight with indignant rage as he watched the Taurax tech who was taking his thronesled apart with a fascinated expression. All fraught, all edgy, all on the verge of making a mistake that would mean the end of all of them. Rygel had already tried his hand at bartering with the pirates, offering various sly bargains in exchange for his freedom. John could still see the look on Jak's face as he'd listened to the tiny Dominar, eyes cold, features emotionless, his lip curled in a mix of amusement and contempt. He'd had no intention of striking a deal; he just liked to play games. When Rygel had finished, he'd simply smiled that icy smile of his and told the Dominar that he was in no position to negotiate, since everything on this ship was already his. Then to prove his point, he'd dragged Rygel from the thronesled and dumped him at Zhaan's feet, before handing the device to Grajul to be stripped for useful parts.

They had all sat after that. In a show of unusual solidarity, with poor Rygel trapped in a forest of their legs, his three companions had also sunk to the floor, huddled in a tight knit group surrounded by a ring of guns. They had not moved or spoken since.

And it was dull as Hell.

John wasn't sure how much more of this inaction he could take. They could not just leave things like this, their fate and Moya's in the hands of a malicious buccaneer, their friends at large elsewhere on the ship, trapped in alien bodies. They had to do something! One glance at D'Argo told John that the Luxan was feeling the same; his eyes had not left his confiscated Qualta blade. But there was more there too, a concern, a worry. John could see it written large across his face. D'Argo was scared for Chiana. They had heard nothing of the Nebari over the comms and no pirate at mentioned her. Just what had befallen her in the arns since the attack? True, she could simply be at large in Moya's hidden chambers; there were times when even Pilot had troubling keeping track of the elusive little thief. People said that no news was good news; but in this case, that could work either way. Was she lying hurt somewhere? Was she lying dead?

There was no way of knowing. And it was driving them crazy.

"Jak!"

John started and looked up as a slender pirate came hurtling into the chamber, rushing up to the leader with an expression of wide-eyed breathlessness.

"We found someone!" he exclaimed as he skidded to a halt.

Jak came to his feet at once. "The female?"

"Could be! It's a girl, at any rate. Nebari, by her looks. But Jak, there be something strange about her. We thought she was sick at first 'cos she was all curled up and shaking in a corner. But when Callo went and had a closer look…" He tailed off, biting his lip.

Jak glared impatiently. "What?" he snapped.

The pirate pulled a face. "I think you'd best see for yourself." 

He turned to the door, just as a pair of Jak's men appeared around the corner, dragging Chiana between them. The Nebari was limp, dangling by the shoulders in their firm but slightly uneasy grip, her feet sliding along the floor, her head slumped forward against her chest. Her only movement was a shiver that seemed to pulse through her body like a wave.

"Chiana!!!!" D'Argo was on his feet in microts, lunging at the nearest pirate with vicious hands. The Taurax was caught completely by surprise as the big Luxan battered him over the head with a merciless blow. "What have you done to her?" he roared, fury burning in eyes fixed only on his lover as he kicked his victim aside and started towards her. For a moment, it seemed he would succeed, that they would finally break free, but D'Argo was trapped in a tunnel vision focussed on the Nebari. He did not see Jak as he snatched the Qualta blade from a nearby workbench, raising the hilt like a club. John cried out a warning, staring to his feet, only to be pushed back to the floor by a rough shove from a guard. It was too late. A crushing blow hammered into the side of D'Argo's head and the Luxan went down, slumped in a heap on the floor. A couple of pirates grabbed him roughly and hauled him across the floor, dumping him back with the other prisoners.

Jak tossed the Qualta blade aside indifferently, casting a disdainful glance at his erstwhile assailant, now barely conscious.

"Don't do that again," he said casually. Smiling slightly, he turned to his men. 

"So what's with this girl?" he asked.

John struggled to his knees, glancing across at Zhaan, who was examining D'Argo with a concerned expression.

"I think he'll be all right," she said, flicking a wan smile back at John. "Luxans have thick skulls."

The human nodded. "Yeah, I coulda guessed." Squinting the human, tried to get a glimpse of what was happening with Chiana but the guards had closed in, affectively blocking his view. He looked up at their impassive faces and sighed. There was no leeway to be found with these goons. They didn't want him to see. But he could still hear. Closing his eyes, John listened.

"…see what you mean." Jak. John knew that smug tone anywhere. "But I don't think she's dangerous." There was a pause; John could almost sense the pirate eyeing her up and down and felt a sudden surge of fury. "She's a pretty wench," he commented, undertones rippling behind his words. "And that little anomaly of hers will make her valuable. We could make a decent profit. Stick her with the others for now. We'll decide her fate when we decide theirs. And keep looking. I'm not convinced that this is the female we overheard."

Anomaly? John had no idea what Jak was talking about but he had no time to ponder it for at that moment, one of the guards contacted him solidly with a foot. As he rolled back in pain, the pirate wall parted and a grey blur was tossed inside the impromptu enclave. John half-rose, considering a rush, but it was too late – the gap sealed as quickly at it appeared. Beside him, Chiana was convulsing gently on the floor.

"Chi?" John was at her side at once. "Pip, can you here me?" Gently he rested his hands on her shoulders; she shuddered but did not rise. A strange noise was emanating from her lips, half-whisper, half-moan, a sliver of a word that was gone as quickly as it was spoken, lost elusive in the air. John felt a strange sense of confusion; it seemed to him that he knew this word, that it tugged at his subconscious, but at the same time it was alien, a mystery beyond his skill to comprehend. He felt frustration rising. What the frell was the matter with her?

He turned to summon Zhaan to find that she was already there. The priestess bent close, her brow creased in confusion and concern, her gentle hands cradling the Nebari's face.

"Chiana, dear, can you hear me? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

At the sound of her voice, the Nebari seemed to pause. Her head twitched; it seemed almost as though she was trying to look up. Her voice was a hum, low and pulsating, as she fought to contort her noises into coherent speech.

"Za…Zaaaaaa…..Zhhaaaannnnn."

"Yes, that's right." Zhaan signalled to John for help as she lifted the girl gently, resting her head in her lap. "I'm here, Chiana. What's the matter?"

Chiana shook her head suddenly and the movement seemed to pulsate down her body as she shook and thrashed in John's arms.

"Zzzzhhhhhaaaannnnnn!!!!!" she screamed at the top of her voice, followed by that same elusive word, but this time not a whisper but a shout, at the top of her voice, screaming for something that no one around her could understand.

"Chiana! Chiana!" Zhaan called her name almost desperately, as she held her down as gently as she could. Tears were streaming from Chiana's tightly closed eyes. 

"Chiana, please! What's wrong?" Zhaan's voice had a frantic edge. "I can't help you if you don't tell me! Open your eyes!!"

The convulsions stopped. Chiana seemed to freeze in place, her face upturned to Zhaan's. She opened her eyes.

John stumbled back in shock as blue light shimmered in the air. Zhaan seemed to freeze, locked in the intensity of the glowing gaze that seemed to reflect off her face like breaking waves. Chiana's features were a twisted mix of pain, confusion and a desperate plea; a plea for help that held the priestess transfixed.

Chiana's lips shivered; awkwardly, she tried to form a word.

"Mmmmmm…… Mmmmmooooyyyyy…….Mmmmoooooyy," She broke off to whimper slightly then tried again. "Mmmmmmooooyyyyy….. Mmmmmmoooyyyyyy…. Mmmmmooooyyyyaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"Moya!" Zhaan gasped. "By the Goddess!" She tore her gaze away to stare wide-eyed at John. The human was watching without comprehension.

"What the Hell is going on?" he exclaimed. "What is with Chiana's eyes?"

"John, don't you see?" Zhaan was breathless. "When the Taurax attacked, it did not just affect Aeryn and Pilot. It affected Chiana and Moya too – in a way we'd never have expected!"

John's eyes widened in sudden realisation. He stared at Chiana in utter disbelief.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he said shakily.

Zhaan nodded. "This isn't Chiana, John. This is Moya!"

********************************

That explained everything.

Pilot stared down into the maintenance bay from his vantage point hidden behind one of the high arcs of the ceiling. He had made quick progress crawling through the vents and ducts to reach this place, quickly slipping into his current position during the distraction caused by D'Argo's assault. Now he crouched, eyes fixed intently upon the convulsing form of the Nebari, cradled compassionately in Zhaan's arms.

He had known her the microt he'd set eyes on her. How could he not? Three cycles of shared thoughts, of co-operation and unity, of fondness, of love, had imprinted the essence of her presence on his senses more strongly than the sense of his own. Despite his detachment from the heightened perceptions of his own body, the whisper of his DNA that Aeryn harboured gave him enough insight to recognise her feel without need for a physical connection. It had been all he could do to prevent himself from leaping out from hiding and diving to the rescue, but the folly of D'Argo's attempt had stayed him just in time. If the powerful Luxan could not overcome the pirates, what chance had a Pilot trapped in a body he barely knew? Anxiously he had forced down his emotions, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes in a desperate bid to stay in command of himself. It was not easy. He could only imagine how terrified she must be, imprisoned in a form so alien as to be almost incomprehensible to her. At least he had some basic knowledge of the form he was in – he knew how to manipulate muscles, how to move, how to communicate, even how to think, albeit on a more simplified level than he was accustomed to. But Moya had none of this knowledge. Her methods of motion, communication, of thought were all impossible in humanoid form. It seemed she had mastered some simple sound making, but proper speech was beyond her; her only real comprehension of a language of sounds came from names. Her cries had rended his soul, her call and plea. She needed him, had called for him, unable to understand why she was suddenly alone. Pilot did not like to think about how much she must be suffering; it made him feel hollow inside. Her essence, her being, was too vast to be contained in a simple Nebari body; already the powerful energy of her soul was leaking through Chiana's eyes. In Pilot's opinion, it was a miracle that the switch had not killed them both.

But it was not just Moya who was enclosed in a form she could not comprehend. What must Chiana have felt on being thrust into Moya? It certainly explained the shutdown; Chiana's mind, too narrow and limited to manipulate the intricacies of leviathan form, had overloaded with the effort and collapsed into unconsciousness to protect itself. Pilot now knew all attempts to restore the ship to waking would be in vain; any attempt to revive Chiana would only risk serious damage to her mind. It was better that she slept. Being woken would probably drive her to insanity. 

But he could not afford to just leave the matter. Neither Chiana nor Moya were stable enough to be left where they were. Pilot didn't know what kind of effect Moya's thought processes would have upon Chiana but he suspected it would not be beneficial. Most likely, her mind, even whilst sleeping, would try to expand to fill the gaps but such expansion would only lead to it being dispersed beyond restoration and cause Moya's body to lose energy and deactivate entirely. And Moya, imprisoned in a vessel ill prepared to cope with the energy of a leviathan soul, was in no less danger. Just how much longer would Chiana's waif like form be able to cope with the stress? He remembered, with discomfort, the horrible sense of detachment as the Nebari form tried to reject him during their last switch. If it had barely coped with him, how the frell could it cope with Moya? The strain her mind and body were struggling under would be immense. Just how long did they have before something gave out and killed them both?

This left Pilot with a serious dilemma. Just what should he do now? He needed a plan, some way to both free his crew and restore them all to their true bodies before both Moya and Chiana were lost for good. He would have preferred a little longer to think about it, to put together a foolproof scheme that was guaranteed success, but time was a luxury he did not possess. He needed to act and soon. Gently, reluctantly, he opened his hand and stared down at the gleaming black heap of the Rani device. He would have liked to have found some other way – the memory of the creators of this thing still made him deeply uneasy – but he had been left with few other options. He was going to have to try and fix it.

A call from below arrested his attention; Pilot closed his hand sharply and turned, peering cautiously around the golden shield that protected him from the pirates view. A large, burly, dark haired pirate had just entered the bay, his big hand wrapped around a huge rifle as he approached the lighter haired, rangier man who Pilot's observations had led him to believe was leader. He looked vicious. Pilot bit back a shudder and tried to listen.

"….found it, up near the front end on a high tier." It was the burly newcomer who was speaking. "Don't look like much is working up there either though."

"Is it defensible?" the rangier man asked sharply, his cold voice carrying with much more clarity than the low rumble of his companion.

"Only one entry. Not good for escape but not bad to defend."

"Especially against a small number of enemies." The leader was frowning thoughtfully. "And perhaps Grajul will be able to do more from the Command."

Abruptly he turned to his men. "Pack up!" he ordered loudly. "We're shifting our base to the Command! Annit, Kerlin, Callo, you stay here and guard the shuttle. The rest of you are with me!"

"What about them?" It was one of the guards, who gestured to the five prisoners with a flick of his rifle.

The leader grinned. "Bring them along. I'm sure we can find a spot that's just as cosy on the upper tiers!"

Pilot watched them silently, as they gathered their gear. Should he follow? Much as his heart yearned to keep Moya safe within his sight, his head reluctantly issued an overrule. There was no purpose to it. It was not as though he feared the pirates would be able to revive the leviathan from there; now he knew the reason for the shut down, that was simply not going to happen until Moya was restored to her own form. He would do much better to find himself a quiet corner and concentrate on repairing the Rani device.If he could get the thing to function, it would give him a massive advantage; the ability to manipulate Moya's body without the need to wake Chiana. In this tricky situation, that was just the kind of advantage he needed.

But still, it hurt to leave her. It felt wrong somehow, like an abandonment. Three cycles of sharing minds with a being as wonderful as Moya had led to a kind of love between them that no other being could ever approach.He knew that Zhaan and Crichton would be capable guardians, but still, he could not shake the nagging feeling that they couldn't do the job half as well as he would.

The pirates were ready to move. Pilot watched, helpless as the five prisoners were forced to their feet. Moya of course could not rise, and D'Argo was more than a little groggy. So after exchanging a quick glance with Zhaan, Crichton had lifted the displaced leviathan gently in his arms, leaving the priestess to support the Luxan. Rygel, protesting wildly about the indignity of proceeding on foot, had been snatched unceremoniously up by a pirate, and tucked rather disrespectfully under his armpit. Slowly, like the straggling survivors of a war, the little group made their way to the door. Pilot watched, eyes never leaving the Nebari held limply in John's arms, whose grey folds concealed the spirit of the being that meant more to him than any other. He watched as they slipped from his sight behind a wall of gold, his heart heavy inside of his borrowed chest. A part of him wanted to cry, but another stronger part fought to dominate. Aeryn's words echoed in his mind…. _Moya needs you_….of even more resonance now than before. Sudden determination bolstered his heart. He would save her. He would not let her down! She needed him!

Filled to overflowing with a powerful new resolve, Pilot turned silently and slipped out of the maintenance bay. He needed to find somewhere quiet….

***************************

The command was dead. John disliked using that word, especially in regards to Moya, but in this case it was the only word he could find to fit. A darkness cloaked the room like a shroud, the dim and guttural lights lost and surrounded by all encroaching darkness. The golden consoles, usually gleaming and flashing with bright read-outs, now lay still, silent and colourless, detached from their functions by an absence of power. It was sinister to behold. John had to admit, if he'd have had a choice, he probably would not have gone in there.

The rifle muzzle dug firmly against his shoulder blades, reminding him that of course, he didn't have a choice. With Chiana – or Moya – cradled in his arms, John shuffled reluctantly forward. Dazzling light expelled the darkness to the hidden recesses as Jak stepped in front of him with a powerful lantern, depositing it firmly on the strategy table. He looked around the golden chamber, his face fixed with that disturbing smile as he examined the leviathan's manual control centre with the assuredness of one who is master of all he surveyed. John watched him coldly, his face fixed angrily at the man's presumption. How dare he treat them like this in their own home? One way or another, that guy was going to pay.

A wail from Rygel caught John's attention. He half turned just in time to see the tiny green dominar being hurled unceremoniously into one of the alcoves to their left. He barely had time to register this fact before he felt a rough hand on his arm and a shove. He reeled back, stumbling to his knees as he struggled to hold onto Moya, collapsing beside Rygel with a painful jarring on his knees. A solid shape contacted him, pushing him against the wall. He looked up to meet Zhaan's apologetic eyes. A hefty oomph from Rygel revealed where the still semi-conscious D'Argo had been deposited and in response to the Hynerian's breathless cries for help, Zhaan turned away to arrange the Luxan more comfortably.

Gently, John placed Moya on the ground, arranging her arms and legs for her as he leaned her carefully against the wall of her own body, supporting her lolling head. After her fit in the maintenance bay, the displaced leviathan seemed to have recovered a little, but now she had retreated into herself, eyes tightly closed, her soft lips mouthing over and over that same mysterious, elusive word. She seemed to chant it, murmuring it aloud like one of Zhaan's mantras, a combination of a prayer and a plea for help. John wished he had some idea what it meant. He wished he could ask Pilot. But he might as well wish for Jak to spontaneously combust. Right now at least, it wasn't going to happen.

He wondered where Pilot was. The fact that had hadn't been brought to join them before now was encouraging; maybe he was better at taking care of himself than John had given him credit for. It was easy to forget that Pilot had not passed his whole life aboard Moya, and although it was never discussed, he must have had a life before his bonding three cycles before. Who could say how different he had been back then, before his painful bonding and years of subservience to the peacekeepers? With a shock, John realised that despite the time they had spent working together, enough certainly to count him as a friend, he knew virtually nothing about the reclusive navigator. It was easy to just lump him in as a part of Moya, an organic computer to obey their commands. But he wasn't. He was a person, with a character and needs all his own, a history and past that they did not and probably would not ever know. Did he have a family on his home planet? What kind of life had he led there? John hadn't a clue. The guy was his friend but yet he knew almost nothing about his life. And he found that mildly disturbing.

A gentle touch to his shoulder jerked him out of his reverie. He turned to meet Zhaan's blue eyes. She smiled at him, but the expression was wan.

"How are you?" she asked him softly.

"Me?" John shrugged. "Oh, I'm on top of the world right now. How's the big guy?"

"Recovering," Zhaan shot a covert glance at the pirate guards, who were blocking them in, their backs to their prisoners before shifting her glance to the semi-comatose Nebari form in which Moya currently resided. "John, we have to do something."

John followed her gaze. "You won't get any argument from me." He glanced at her hopefully. "You got a plan?"

To his disappointment, the Delvian shook her head. "I'm afraid not. But this situation is more urgent than it appears." She took a breath. "I can't be sure John, but I think Moya and Chiana are dying."

John felt his heart drop. A hollowness settled in his stomach. "What makes you say that?"

Zhaan sighed. "I can only speculate. I think that when the combination of our shield and the Halosian weapon caused Moya and Chiana to switch bodies, it took no account of the differing ways in which Nebari and leviathan minds work. Look at her, John." She gestured to the porcelain frame slumped against the bulkhead. "Moya's energy and mind are used to being housed in a vessel metras long. You can't just push that amount of power into a tiny body like Chiana's and expect it to cope. And Chiana's mind is used to operating a simple humanoid form not a massive, space-faring vessel. I believe that when they changed places, Chiana's mind was unable to handle the complexity of Moya and shut down. Who knows what kind of damage that will do, to both of them! We need to get out of here, fast, and restore them to their true forms as quickly as possible. Otherwise…."

She left it hanging. But her meaning was clear.

John felt sick. Zhaan was right. It was obvious, when you thought about it. After all, Chiana's body had had problems dealing with Pilot's mind, for frell's sake! How could it be expected to cope with the vastness of Moya?

Pilot. Frell!

"Zhaan, what about Pilot?" John turned to the Delvian in sudden concern. "Last time we all played pass the parcel with our minds, Pilot almost died!"

"I know," Zhaan leaned forward, checking on Moya's breathing with gentle fingers. 

"But he may not be so badly affected this time. Remember, Aeryn's body still contains dormant fragments of his DNA. Maybe it will be able to cope better with the complexities of Pilot's mind. And Aeryn has experience of multi-tasking. I suspect that both of them will be able to adapt to each other's bodies without too much difficulty."

John nodded, hoping as he did so that the priestess was right. He smiled uncertainly. 

"You think Pilot can get us out of this from inside Aeryn's body?"

Zhaan smiled, more genuinely. "I think Pilot is more resourceful than we give him credit for."

John gave her a look. "That doesn't answer my question."

The Delvian returned his gaze. "When I have an answer, I'll give you one."

The human sighed, glancing out through the cracks in the wall of legs that hemmed them in. "So what do we do until then?"

Zhaan looked away, her eyes fixed with concern on the whispering lips of the leviathan souled Nebari. "Until then," she said softly. "We must wait."

John rolled his eyes. "Whether we like it or not," he replied.

*******************************************

Well, well, well.

Jak Cordak smiled to himself. Hadn't that been an interesting conversation?

He knew it had been a good idea to place the listening device on the Nebari girl. They had not seen him do it, of course, too concerned with their impetuous Luxan friend. And now they had given him some very key information.

He had no idea how or why those aboard the leviathan during the attack would have switched bodies. He had been dubious at first, thinking perhaps they had found the device and were trying to make a fool of him. But the Delvian seemed genuine enough. Why would they take the trouble to invent a lie like that? No, Jak was convinced they were telling the truth. And that was excellent news.

It was a fascinating phenomenon. The idea that that blue eyed Nebari was the leviathan inside was amazing; he could scarcely comprehend the kind of price he could fetch for something like that. But of more significance was the information about the elusive female still at large. He had feared her presence, an unknown element in his neat equation of victory. But now, he discovered, she was no more than a displaced Pilot! A Pilot! He knew enough of the race to know that they were bred to be quiet, obedient and peaceful. You didn't get a leviathan if you weren't. No one wanted to fly on a ship with a disobedient, troublemaking navigator. No, this was going to be easy. Once the Pilot was found, there would be no fight. It would all be over quicker than one of Areni's conquests!

Now all he had to do was draw him out.

And how do you draw something out?

With bait.

And what did Pilots care about more than anything else?

Jak cast a sidelong look at the alcove where the prisoners were huddled. He caught a glimpse of grey skin and smiled to himself.

Perfect. 

The Pilot was as good as his.

END OF PART FOUR.

*************************************

In The Flesh – Part Five.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at [jesspallas@hotmail.com][1]

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Reference to OOTM, LATP, TWWW and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note:This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Recap: Moya has been taken over by pirates using the salvaged Halos 1. As a result of their attack, Aeryn and Pilot have switched bodies, as have Chiana and Moya, putting the lives of both in serious jeopardy. The rest of the crew, unaffected, have been taken captive by the pirates and are being held in command. Pilot, the only member of the crew still at large, has discovered the Rani device and now must formulate a plan to rescue the others before Chiana and Moya are destroyed…

The neural cluster was eerily quiet. An unnatural stillness permeated the air, a silence and lack of motion that was unusual for such an active zone of Moya's systems. To Pilot it was disconcerting. More than ever before, it made him aware of just how perilous the current situation was for both Chiana and Moya and instilled in him a need for haste and rapid action. He had come down here in his search for a secluded spot, carefully avoiding the attention of the patrolling pirates who sought him out. He had hoped to find a maintenance bay or lab, somewhere with equipment and resources he could utilise but every time he approached such a haven, he would be confronted by the sound of gruff voices and heavy footsteps. Finally, after what seemed like arns of searching, he discovered that the pirates did not seem to be exploring the lower regions of his chamber – the neural clusters were deserted. It appeared the invaders were no keener on climbing ladders than he was, but he put aside his dislike in favour of finding a place where he could function and turn his attention to the Rani device.

It was a puzzle to say the least. The small size of the metallic controller concealed a complex labyrinth of wires and electronics, powered by a small but incredibly powerful electro-battery. The fall had caused considerable damage to the connections and inter-weavings of the conduits; most had been displaced and Pilot had to admit, to his own chagrin, that replacing them would be less down to skill and more to trial and error. Closer examination gave him a rough idea at least of how exactly the thing was able to manipulate Moya's body; the device emitted an electro-charge that stimulated a response. But this charge could behave in different ways. One frequency enabled a mechanism to be triggered and activated. Another emitted a jamming signal. Another caused overload in pulse weapons. It all depended on the intricate inter-connection of the wiring; the inter-connection that the fall had obliterated. And Pilot didn't have a clue how to put it back together.

Pilot sighed to himself as he picked up a small metal tool. Well, he'd faced worse in his time. It wasn't like he needed the thing to be fully functional. All he had to repair were the frequencies for the manipulation of Moya's systems and the destructive capability; so he could regain at least rudimentary control of Moya and have some means by which to defend himself. Awkwardly, he settled himself down against one of the pillars, his back to the circular hatch as he set to work intently.

It surprised him how well he could see. The room was very dark, shadows whispering in corners to the abyss outside, but yet he found that even in the very limited light, Aeryn's eyes were coping easily. He had no trouble whatsoever in observing the various fiddly little wires within the black device, although his inexperience with fingers meant he had a great deal of trouble when it came to manipulating them. It surprised him to say the least. Earlier, he had felt limited by her narrow spectrum vision. Now it seemed to be almost as good as his.

But clear vision did not make his task any easier. Pilot was an intelligent being, and his experience with DRDs gave him a good basic understanding of this kind of electronics. But yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the thing to work. The wires were in place and secure; as far as he could ascertain, he had replaced them correctly. But every time he tested the thing, nothing happened. Oh, the transmitter would flash, the wiring would hum, but this had no effect on any of the adjacent systems. It was most baffling and more than a little frustrating. What the frell was he doing wrong?

Suddenly very tired, Pilot laid Aeryn's dark head back against the pillar and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so drained. Certainly not in the three cycles since he had bonded to Moya. In his role as navigator, Pilot never slept. Moya provided him with nutrients that energized him and removed the need for unconscious regeneration. But suddenly, he found his mind was yearning towards a state of blissful shutdown he had not experienced for cycles and jerked himself awake with a shock. He didn't have time for this! Unsteadily, he came to his feet and tried to move around to revive himself, admonishing himself for even considering such an action. But his borrowed body wasn't listening. Quietly, unwillingly, Pilot slipped back against the wall, and slumped to the ground. His hand came down against a bundle of conduits, closing on the Rani device and pressing on the activator.

The shock was tremendous. Waves of electric energy coursed along his arm and rippled through the wall, bolting him upright with a start, all thoughts of sleep erased in an instant. He jerked his arm away from the wall with a cry of pain, stumbling forward onto his knees. The shock was gone as quickly as it had come. For a moment, Pilot couldn't breathe, doubled over gasping on the floor. What the frell had that been?

Still breathing hard, he sat back and opened his still-shaking hand. The black device glistened innocently, looking for all the world as though it wouldn't hurt a drak. But something had shocked him. His gaze shifted suspiciously from the device to the conduits and back again. His eyes narrowed in thought. He glanced at the wall again as the possibility solidified in his mind. Could that be the reason it wasn't working?

Hurriedly, Pilot flipped the device in his hand, leaning over close to examine the battery. He noticed the crack in the casing almost at once. Why he hadn't seen it before, he didn't know, but now was not the time for such thoughts. It was clear was had happened. The battery had been damaged in the fall and had leaked, severely reducing the range of the transmitter. It simply did not have the power to affect items at a distance. But place it in close proximity to a power source and a system…

Pilot smiled to himself. Well now he knew what was wrong, at least. All he needed now was a decent battery. If he could gain access to one of the maintenance bays, he should be able to adapt one of the power chargers from one of Aeryn's rifles….

Rising carefully, mind lost in thought, Pilot turned to the hatch and came face to face with Areni.

The shock was easily as powerful as the one he had just received. Pilot jumped backwards, clutching the Rani device like a talisman, knowing even as he retreated that there was nowhere to run. The pirate was stood in the circular hatchway, foot resting easily on the rim, rifle-shod fist placed upon his up-raised knee. He was watching him with his intense dark eyes, his expression intent. His gaze slid slowly from Aeryn's face down her body and back up again, lingering at times in a way that Pilot found distinctly disturbing. A slow, predatory smile spread across his cheeks.

"Hello there, pretty," he murmured softly. "And what are you doing hiding down here all alone?"

Pilot suddenly had a very bad feeling.

He took another step back.

Areni's smile spread. "Now there's no need to be afraid of me," he drawled. Slowly, almost languorously, he stepped up and pulled himself through the hatchway, jumping to the ground. His eyes never left Aeryn's face.

"Your voice doesn't do you credit, you know," he said smoothly, as he moved forward in small, easy strides, an air of confidence hanging about him like a halo. "I had no idea those dulcet tones I heard over the comms would belong to such a beauty."

Pilot was no fool. He had seen enough of this kind of thing, most notably involving Chiana, to realise what was going on. Knowing what was happening was no comfort though. In fact it made it worse. He had a strong suspicion what this swarthy pirate was after and he had absolutely no intention of letting him take it. He continued to back away, circling the neural cluster, one hand gripping the Rani device, the other slipping cautiously in the direction of Aeryn's pulse pistol, hoping that Areni would be too caught up in his conquest to notice.

But the pirate was no fool either. He caught the furtive movement almost at once and cocked his rifle casually, powering its chamber with a lazy hum. Pilot froze in his tracks, hand instantly still. The hatch was no more than a few steps to his left, but it might as well have been metras away. Areni saw the flicker of consternation across the Sebacean features and smiled.

"Now, is that polite?" he said easily. "I was only being friendly, you know. But then, you Sebaceans have never been renowned for your courtesy." He frowned suddenly, gazing into Aeryn's eyes. "You are Sebacean, aren't you?" Suddenly he didn't sound quite so sure of himself. "You look Sebacean, except for your eyes. I'd say you were a hybrid, but I know how your people feel about that kind of thing." He moved cautiously around, circling the neural cluster to get a better look. Pilot for one had no idea what he was talking about. Aeryn's eyes looked perfectly normal to him.

Areni was watching him. "You are an unusual one," he commented dryly. "Quiet as space itself, with eyes like a pair of suns." He grinned, a disturbing site. "Doesn't make you any less worth having though."

Pilot wasn't listening. His mind was whirling. Eyes like suns? But Aeryn had blue eyes! It was his eyes that were….

Oh frell.

He had known from the start that his DNA had allowed him to settle so well into Aeryn's body. Now, it appeared, he was settling too well. The DNA, dormant for so long, had reacted to his presence strongly and now it appeared, had begun making changes to accommodate him. If he didn't get out of Aeryn's body, it was entirely possible that more changes would occur; changes that Aeryn was unlikely to appreciate.

But now was not the time to ponder it. Areni was leaning casually against an upright, eyeing Aeryn's body with unmistakable intent. Pilotknew he had to do something and fast or he was going to end up in a situation so bizarre as to be almost farcical. 

Areni was smiling that worrying smile again.

"You look like a reasonable girl," he said suavely. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Pilot might almost have laughed at how far off the mark that statement was.

"Why don't we cut to the chase? You know what I want and I think you want it to. Care to get down to business?"

He began to advance. Pilot backed away almost at once, covering the few steps to the hatch with a speed that surprised even him. For a microt, he considered risking a bolt for safety but Areni's deceptively casually flick of his rifle stayed any such thought in his tracks. He turned reluctantly to face the pirate.

Areni's eyes had narrowed. "Is there a problem?" he said, his deceptively quiet voice masking an unspoken threat. Pilot felt ill. He smiled wanly.

"You're really not my type," he stammered. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but it was all that came to mind.

"Oh?" Areni smiled like a predator who had cornered his prey. He was in complete control and he knew it. "And what will it take to make me your type?"

Pilot rolled his eyes. "Tripling your size and changing gender would be a start," he muttered to himself. Luckily Areni didn't hear. Pilot cursed silently under his breath. What the frell was he going to do? He had to get out of this and fast. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate. He glanced to one side almost plaintively, searching desperately for a solution. His eyes fixed almost at once on the ring of half-exposed conduits that looped their way around the circular hatch. In his hand, he felt the pressure of the Rani device, still warm from its earlier run-in with Moya's systems. An idea coalesced hurriedly in his mind. He glanced at Areni warily but the pirate seemed oblivious, too intent upon his prey. Pilot knew what he had to do now. He needed to get Areni closer, but at the same time distance himself. He pursed Aeryn's lips, her forehead furrowing on his behalf as he realised what he was going to have to do. It would be humiliating beyond belief; but if it saved him from the next phase, it would be worth it.

Silently, Pilot thanked whoever watched over these things that none of the rest of the crew were here to see this. Watching the crew day after day had given him an intimate knowledge of their mannerisms, their style and their character. He thought of Chiana, of the way she moved, the way she smiled and closed his eyes with despair. He really wished there was another way!

Abruptly, he sat back, swinging Aeryn's legs up onto the rim of the hatch and leaning back languorously against the edge. One hand reached up to stroke the metal overhead; the other, carefully concealed behind his back, positioned the Rani device firmly against the exposed conduit.

"Maybe we could….talk… about it," he drawled, doing his best to imitate Chiana's seductive inflections. "But this isn't really the place. I know somewhere better we could go."

Areni's grin filled his face. "I knew you'd come to your senses!" He advanced hungrily, hands outstretched but Pilot dodged neatly, slipping through the hatchway in one quick movement, one hand still daintily covering the presence of the transmitter.

"Not here," he repeated, moving back until only his fingertips still touched the rim. With Aeryn's free hand, he beckoned, smiling broadly. Areni's replying smile was wolfish. With a playful lunge, he leaned forward, draping himself across the rim.

Pilot pressed down.

The sudden light was blinding. Pilot dove for cover, collapsing in a ball on the far side of the passageway. Areni's scream echoed through the cluster, expanding out into the chamber beyond to bounce off the walls in a rippling tide. For a moment it seemed he would cry out forever. But abruptly the light was gone and the neural cluster fell silent. An unpleasant burning smell drifted across in the air.

Reluctantly, Pilot looked up.

Areni lay slumped across the rim of the hatchway. Most of his hair was gone; his face was a mass of orange burns. Steam was rising in lazy spirals from his clothes. Carefully, warily Pilot approached. He poked gently at the steaming pirate, but he simply rocked and fell back into place. Reluctantly, the navigator checked his vital signs. To his surprise, the pirate wasn't dead. 

But it would be a while before he made any more advances.

Smiling to himself, Pilot retrieved the device. It was very hot – he almost dropped it – but a pair of tools solved that problem. The navigator turned to leave when his eye feel upon the pirate's fallen rifle. He bent, lifted it gently and turned it examining the power source.

Fully charged.

Pilot's smile spread. Grinning to himself, the navigator settled cross-legged on the floor, and began to take the rifle apart. Perhaps the encounter hadn't been a total waste of time after all!

*****************************************

It had definitely been a scream.

There was no mistaking it. Aeryn had heard it distinctly. Concentrating tediously on Pilot's panels, pretending to her two monosyllabic guards that she was hard at work on their behalf, she had all but given up hope that any of them would live out the day. If nothing else, she would die of sheer boredom. Helpless, annoyed and frustrated, she had paused in her pretend diligence, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths in an attempt to maintain some shadow of composure.

And then she had heard the scream.

It had caught her attention at once. Her eyes snapped open, head raised, listening intently as the echo of the cry died away, fragmented into swirling eddies of sound by the vaulted walls of the chamber. For a microt, she had thought she was imagining things, but the two Taurax had jerked into alertness as well, casting around with their rifles, expressions a mixture of confusion and anxiety. So it had been real. Aeryn lowered Pilot's cumbersome head quickly, anxious not to draw the guards attention as her mind raced. As far as she could tell, the sound had come from somewhere below them; probably from one of the neural clusters. To her trained ears, supplemented by Pilot's excellent hearing, it had sounded like a male, probably a pirate. That in itself was a relief – she had briefly feared that something had befallen Pilot and her body. But what had caused such an agonised cry? Had some fool made a mistake and had an accident or had someone assaulted him? Had the others got free somehow? Were they fighting to reach her? Desperately, she wished that there were some way that she could discover what was happening on the rest of the ship. She felt trapped and isolated, alone in Pilot's chamber with a pair of silent idiots, shunted to the one side and held out of the action. She suppressed a sudden urge to add a scream of her own to the echoing corners of the room. How the frell did Pilot live like this? And where was he now? Why couldn't someone please tell her what was going on?

"Aeryn?"

The quiet voice made her start. She swept the chamber with her eyes, searching for it's origin but there was no one to see. She felt an odd little shiver. Was she imagining things? Had the solitude driven her insane? She had heard someone say her name, she was sure of it. But there was nobody there!

"Aeryn!"

That time, she knew she wasn't dreaming. Once more she glanced around her. Once more no face came to view. The two pirates, Ragit and Nuin, were lounging together on the far side of the walkway, rifles raised, gazing uneasily down the immense drop to either side. They were talking quietly, nervously between themselves, obviously unaware that Pilot's superior hearing meant that she could hear every word they said. But they had not spoken her name. That voice that been much closer…

"Aeryn!" There was an air of impatience to the voice this time. It was female and very familiar. "I'm down here!"

Aeryn felt a gentle touch against the lower part of Pilot's massive body. Her mysterious visitor was in the bonding chamber. This time, the sound of the voice filled her with recognition and a mild euphoria. She peered down, trying to catch a glimpse of herself, mouth half-open in greeting.

"Don't look!" Her own voice rang out in a sharp whisper of admonishment. "And don't answer me either! Their hearing is insufficient to catch my words, but not so weak that they wouldn't hear you! Just listen!"

Aeryn felt a rush of impatience, but she did as she was told. She had a thousand questions to ask, and it was frustrating that she couldn't request any answers. But Pilot was a thorough being. Hopefully he'd answer without the need for her to ask.

"I know what has happened to Moya," There was a note of anxiety to Pilot's borrowed voice that was unmistakable. "Do you remember when we first changed places? You told me that Moya's senses had run out of control for a microt then shut down entirely. Well, there was a reason for that. It wasn't Moya you were sensing, Aeryn. It was Chiana."

Aeryn stared at the panels in disbelief, barely able to restrain herself from sending forth a torrent of questions. What the frell was he talking about?

Pilot must have sensed her confusion. "I know that sounds strange but it's true. When the Halosian weapon hit, it did not just affect you and me. It caused Moya and Chiana to change bodies as well. Chiana was apparently unable to deal with leviathan form and her mind shut down, deactivating Moya along with it. Moya is trapped in Chiana's body and is a prisoner of the pirates along with the others. I believe they are being held in the command." He paused to take a breath as Aeryn gazed off into the darkness, letting this information sink in. Frell! Chiana in Moya! No wonder nothing was working. The useless trelk could barely function in her own body at times!

"I am now the only member of this crew still at liberty," There was a definite edge of strain to Pilot's voice now. "But I believe I may have a way to set you all free. Do you remember the Rani?"

A flood of memories filled Aeryn's mind, unpleasant visions that tumbled over and over. Did she remember the Rani? Of course she did! Better than anyone else did! Better than anyone else could!

Pilot had moved on, unaware of her abstraction. Like the others, he had no memory of the true sequence of events that had occurred when the Rani invaded the ship and if Aeryn had her way he never would. Telling her best friend that he had died and she had been responsible was not a prospect she ever intended to face.

"Well, when I was hiding in the lower tiers, I found that Rani device - the little black one that they used to manipulate Moya and destroy your pulse pistol."

Aeryn recalled it vividly; the frelling thing had nearly killed her. What was Pilot doing, playing around with something as dangerous as that? She almost said so, but her eye fell on Ragit and Nuin; in frustration, she bit down on her lip and held her tongue.

Pilot had swept on. "Well, I've had some time to study it and I think I've got it partially functioning. It can certainly effect Moya's systems and it ought to be able to ignite pulse chambers as well." There was a pause. "I haven't been able to test that yet. But I am fairly certain I did it right."

Aeryn wanted to scream at him. _You think?_ How could Pilot be so foolish as to tamper with something that dangerous and not even test it out?

"I am currently in the process of tapping into Moya's systems." This was news to Aeryn. She suddenly noticed for the first time that there was the barest hint of life flickering in the lower panels of the console. She felt a strange combination of apprehension and hope. If Pilot could give her even a little control, she would be immensely grateful. But the idea of such a benefit coming from a device forged by the Rani…. It made her apprehensive, to say the least.

"Once I have re-established partial function to my console, I need you to seal off this chamber. You must make sure that it is completely isolated, especially the conduit flows." There was an intensity to Pilot's voice that Aeryn was not familiar with. "This is very important, Aeryn. I cannot explain it now; I do not have much time. But later, you will understand."

There was a buzz and a flurry of light. A patchwork of panels, islands of light scattered randomly across the console fluttered abruptly into life. At once, Aeryn jerked to attention, co-ordinating Pilot's four arms awkwardly as she examined what she had. It wasn't much. Minimum functions were restored in several crucial systems and she had full access to the functions that surrounded the chamber. But it was better than nothing. Quietly, the displaced peacekeeper set to work, carefully severing every link and connection that gave access to the chamber.

"That should be enough." Her own voice drifted softly from below, sprinkled with Pilot's familiar inflections. "I have to go now. I need to get to command. I'll be back just as soon as I'm done. Remember, isolate the chamber and then wait until you hear from me. Good luck, Aeryn."

Then he was gone. She neither saw nor heard him leave, but she immediately sensed the absence of his presence. She felt heavy inside, scared for his fate, for the fate of them all. She was unable to shake a terrible feeling of apprehension. Pilot was not accustomed to this kind of situation, at least not from an active perspective. She wished she had been able to question him, to find out in more depth exactly what he had planned. She could have advised him, stopped him if she considered his intentions foolhardy.The presence of the Rani device only added to her unease. How sure could Pilot be that it would function as he thought? That thing was as dangerous as the race who had been responsible for it's creation. Did he even have the slightest idea what he was getting himself into? She admonished herself for having so little faith in his ability, but she simply couldn't help it. She was worried about him. She found herself wishing desperately that she could have spoken to him properly, if only to say one little thing. With a sigh she closed her eyes. He wouldn't hear her, of course. But she had to do it, if only to comfort herself. She cast a quick glance at Ragit and Nuin; they were not paying her any heed. Quietly, she lowered her head and gazed down at the flickering panels, praying that by some miracle, her words would reach their target.

"Good luck, Pilot," she whispered.

***********************************

Was he really doing the right thing?

Pilot sighed to himself as he hurried along the dark and deserted curve of Moya's passageways. He knew that he worried too much – he had heard the others comment as much when they thought he wasn't listening. Indeed, he had even overheard Crichton remark once that he had raised self-doubt to an art form. But this was more than some minor decision over a trade or a technical problem. This was serious – deadly serious. He would be putting his life – all their lives - at risk, placing himself, his ship and his crew at the mercy of a device he barely understood and could hardly function! What if he made a mistake? He could kill them all!

He wished he could have asked Aeryn's opinion. The extended period he had spent in solitude, without the benefit of a friend to share ideas with, had left his mental state more than a little unnerved. He wasn't used to making decisions and acting them out alone. It wasn't that he relied on the input of others – he was more than capable of thinking for himself – but always before, he had had someone to discuss it with, even if it was only Moya. Much as he hated to admit it, his time under the oppressive peacekeeper regime had badly eroded what confidence he had possessed prior to his bonding, and now he found himself almost reliant on the approval of others. True, his time with his present crew had gone some way to restoring his self-esteem – albeit after a rocky start – but he was painfully aware that he still had some way to go. It would have been reassuring to hear Aeryn's view on his plans, perhaps have her suggest amendments, but it simply hadn't been possible without endangering them both. Like it or not, this time he was on his own.

He just wished the prospect didn't make him so nervous.

In an attempt to dispel the doubts, he tried to focus his mind on running through the details of his plan. Had he made all the correct preparations? Yes. The device was a functional as he was going to be able to get it and Aeryn was already at work, isolating the chamber as a safe hold. He had used the battery from Areni's rifle to boost the signal but he had also integrated the safety catch, to limit any damage and protect Moya's body from harm. Now all he needed to do was get close enough to the pirates without being seen and find some way to draw them far enough away from Moya and the crew. 

Some all.

In the silence of his mind, Pilot made a vow that he would never underestimate the problems of his bipedal crew again. How did they live like this?

Ahead, a shaft of light cut through the dark oblivion, dancing across the glistening golden walls. Pilot halted at once, his newly enhanced eyes peering into the darkness ahead. He could see nothing but just audible a little way around the next bend were the sounds of unfamiliar voices. Pilot knew that just beyond the next corner lay the entrance to the command – most likely these were the men set to guard it. As silently as he was able, Pilot crept forward down on all fours, well below the beam of light and poked a cautious head passed the golden bulkhead. Three large, burly Taurax stood gathered in the open entry, silhouetted by the light that glowed from within. Beyond, he could see several more shadowy figures, lounging in various states of indolence around the controls. A further three stood in a tight ring, blocking in one of the alcoves along the command's right flank. Between their solid shapes, he caught a glimpse of blue and black.

Pilot pulled back quickly, breathing hard. So that was where they were holding the others. It was good in that they were all close together tucked out of the way, but bad in that they were worryingly proximate to the three armed pirates. The last thing Pilot wanted was for Moya or the others to get caught up in a backlash. And there were so many! Given the number of pirates he had observed patrolling the corridors, he had hoped that the command would contain no more than three or four. But from what he could establish from so brief a reconnaissance, there were at least eight and probably more than that. Because of his uncertainty regarding the range and performance of the Rani device, he would need to drop that number by half if this plan was going to succeed. So how the frell was he supposed to do that?

Thinking hard, Pilot retreated a way down the corridor and ducked into a dark backwash chamber. He needed to draw some of the pirates out. How? By giving them something they wanted. What did they want? The ship. They already had that. Wealth. He had nothing of any value to offer them. And what good would it do anyway? They was no way that the pirates were all going to troop out and stare at it. They would just pick it up and take it back to the command. So it needed to be something else – preferably something mobile. Something they were anxious to get hold of. Something they were looking for…

Pilot felt himself go cold.

They were looking for him.

Could he really use himself as live bait? He didn't want to, of course – the prospect was terrifying. But it also had possibilities. Several arns of roaming the ship had allowed him to come reasonably close to mastering Aeryn's body – he now had no problem with walking and climbing. If he had to, he reckoned he could probably keep ahead of any pursuit – at least for a short distance. But where would he lead them? It was all very well to get them out of command, but it would be a useless exercise if he couldn't get away from them and return to the command himself. So he needed a trap – some way to imprison them and prevent them from interfering. He glanced around at the backwash chamber. It was a large room with a single door and only two vents that gave access, one too narrow for bipedal traversion, the other a direction release into space. 

Pilot smiled, albeit nervously.

It would do nicely.

**********************************

Edril waited. He was good at that.

Guard duty was one of the things that Edril did best. It involved no thinking. All he had to do was stand there and look menacing. If there was one person in the galaxy who was designed to stand still and look menacing, it was Edril. He never got bored. He never argued. As long as he was told to stand and guard, he would do so until the very end of time.

The corridor outside the command was quiet. That was no surprise. The whole frig-cursed leviathan was quiet. The ship was non-operational, all but one of her crew in custody. There was no one left to make any noise except the mystery female still at large and she had shown no inclination for a confrontation, preferring to stay hidden and wait. Edril did not care much about the female. If he saw her, he would shoot her. If he didn't see her, he wouldn't. That was all he knew.

So Edril waited.

The shot came out of nowhere. Red light seared the air, exploding against the doorframe above their heads in a shower of crimson sparks. Even as Edril started, half-turned towards in the direction of the attack, a second blast hammered into the shoulder of the guard standing to his left, catapulting him back into the bulkhead with a cry of pain. From inside the command, Jak Cordak had turned, his eyes wide with shocked surprise at the assault, bellowing orders at his men. The pirates scrambled to attention; all but Grajul the tech and two of the three guarding the prisoners snatched weapons to hand and made for the door even as a third shot lit the darkness, missing Edril by inches to explode against the wall. But this time the burly pirate had been ready. As the shot discharged, he caught a glimpse of a slender, female figure, arm extended with pulse pistol blazing, crouched, half-poised to flee at the apex of the bend. He felt his blood racing; he was not going to let some female make a fool out of him! Cocking his rifle, he took aim and rattled off a series of random shots that set fire to the darkness, ripping it aside like a discarded curtain. The female, stripped of her concealment and suddenly startled, wheeled rapidly and bolted down the corridor.

Jak had appeared at his side. "Don't just stand there, you imbeciles!" he roared. "After her!"

Edril did not need to be told twice. Bellowing a cry of war, he hurled himself into the black.

***********************************

So far so good.

Pilot hurled himself around the corner at such velocity that he almost fell. His breath was coming in short, wheezing gasps; Aeryn's lungs were screaming. Desperately, he scrambled, dropping the pulse pistol but managing to maintain his balance as he shied from the wall and leapt clear over the bundle of wires and conduits that snaked out from the threshold of the doorframe to branch out across the backwash chamber floor. It had been a long time since he had been required to do exercise at all, let alone anything strenuous – he had forgotten just how much it could hurt. A glance back over his shoulder told him that five pirates had come in pursuit, lead by the dark, burly one he had seen earlier in the maintenance bay. He saw Aeryn's pulse pistol lying on the floor but he had no time to retrieve it; the pirates were too close. But they had brought no lights.

Even better.

The room was solid black, but Pilot had no problem seeing. Veering to one side, he doubled back into the shadows, grasping a strategically placed, non-conductive container and hauling himself up. Below, the Rani device blended into the blackness almost perfectly; Pilot grabbed the triggering device he had hastily constructed, ducked his head and waited.

He did not have to wait long.

His attack had obviously had the desired effect; not to kill the pirates as some might have thought but to anger them, make them lose their circumspection. They piled into the room without even looking, bellowing at the top of their lungs, waving their weapons and rattling off random shots into the darkness. Pilot waited carefully, concealed by the darkness that blinded them, knowing that in just a moment, their world would come alight. One, two; they tumbled in without a thought, stumbling and tripping mindlessly on the very conduits that would lead to their downfall. Three, four; he just had to wait, just a moment, one moment more and then it would all be over. Just a little longer….

Five!

Pilot pressed the trigger.

The floor caught fire.

Not literally of course; Pilot would never have done anything that would cause such damage to Moya's body. But it must have looked that way to the confused and terrified pirates. The golden floor coursed with violent blue light; it reached up in grasping tendrils to engulf their legs, pulling them down into the haze, their cries of shock consumed by the brightness in an instants time. It wouldn't kill them of course – Pilot had no wish to be a mass murderer. But it would put them out of contention for a while. For a microt more, the room blazed with blinding light. But then, the echoes of their screams died into nothingness and the room fell dark and silent once more.

But something had gone wrong.

Only four still shapes lay slumped on the chamber's floor. The burly pirate was still standing.

Pilot felt a rush of horror. By some fluke, the pirate had stepped onto a sheet of Ashyn fibres – a non-conductive material – just as Pilot had triggered his trap. In the shocking blaze of light that had followed, he had turned and caught sight of a Sebacean female huddled atop a container on the far side of the room. Even through the darkness, Pilot could see that his eyes were burning dangerously. Gripping his rifle with menace, he began to advance.

There was no time to re-ignite the floor – the conduit relay was only designed for a single short burst of power and another attempt would involve recharging – and he had dropped the pulse pistol in his stumble in the doorway. Pilot barely had time to tumble to the ground as the air around him was set alight by a barrage of fire. Scrambling on hands and knees, he rolled clumsily to the nearest shelter behind a pile of crates as the pirate advanced, firing in a steady stream of energy. The crates splintered and shattered under the assault; metal shrapnel cut the air to shreds. Pilot flattened to the floor, gasping, eyes wide and fearful. This had gone very bad indeed. What the frell was he going to do?

A glimmer of light caught his eye; he risked a glance. The shiny black of the Rani device was reflecting the light from the energy almost playfully, twinkling like a beacon through the night. Pilot's heart leapt. The device! If he could just get to it…

But the pirate was already too close. With a roar, he hurtled forward, careening into the metal crates that made up Pilot's concealment, scattering them far and wide. Pilot scrambled desperately aside just in time even as the pirate, with a cry of triumph, wheeled to face him. The barrel of his rifle was aimed at Aeryn's head; Pilot knew he had a microt to act or he would die. Snatching the first thing that came to hand – in this case, a piece of metal piping – he hurled it with all his might at the pirate and prayed with all his strength for a miracle.

He got one. The pipe contacted solidly with the pirate's arm; the rifle went flying. With a grunt of astonishment, the pirate lurched aside, scrambling for his weapon and Pilot took the given chance; he rushed forward and snatched up the Rani device, wheeling to face his foe. The rifle had fallen behind a pile of debris; the pirate was scrabbling behind it. Pilot had no intention of letting him get weapon to hand. Flicking to a new frequency, he pressed the activator.

The result was not what he expected. Instead of a violent explosion to knock the pirate from his feet, there was a loud fizzle and a bang. The pirate jerked back, ringing his hand as a flash of golden light burned briefly in the air but then all fell to silence.

Pilot felt a chill run through his borrowed body as he realised his mistake. The violent explosion of the past had been caused by the ignition of a pulse chamber. But these pirates were armed with electro-rifles. They looked like pulse rifles – many even called them so – but they did not work in the same way. There was no hidden store of energy to ignite so when the Rani device was activated they did not explode. They simply shorted out, giving a nasty shock to anyone who was unlucky enough to be in contact. It might make you dizzy for a few microts but it wouldn't knock you out.

Frell.

The pirate slowly turned. He fixed Pilot with an icy stare.

Pilot bolted.

He could hear the heavy sound of footsteps in pursuit but he dared not turn to look. He reached the door with a speed that astonished even him, scrambling for the lock mechanism. He could see the furious features of the pirate closing on him fast and he walloped the lock frantically, willing it to shut with speed. The door swung lazily, slowly, with a heinous disregard for the danger he was in. Pilot pushed on it with all his might, back to the golden surface as he hurried it to a close. Almost there…

A huge hand grasped his shoulder; Pilot felt the huge weight of the pirate in opposition as he tried to barge his way through. He braced Aeryn's feet against the floor, battering at the hand with his fists as he heard his adversary cry out furiously. Slowly, but surely, the door began to creak the other way.

This was not good.

Glancing around desperately, Pilot's eye fell on Aeryn's fallen pulse pistol. It lay on the floor, just beyond his foot, glittering enticingly. But he knew there was no way to get it without moving away from the door. He could feel his footing slipping; in a few microts it wouldn't matter anyway. He took a rapid decision – it was all or nothing.

He dived for the gun.

He heard the door give behind him, heard the pirate's angry roar. But the pistol was already in his hands. He spun frantically, hideously aware of the looming shadow and blindly opened fire. He heard a cry, caught a glimpse of a giant form stumbling back through the half-closed door and hurled himself forward unthinkingly, slamming into the door and forcing it to a close. The Rani device was already in his fist; he shoved it against the lock and pressed the activator. There was a fizzling noise and a small spark as the lock fused in place.

Pilot did not wait around to see if the fusing had been successful. He rushed down the passageway to a small vent opening and pulled himself inside, crawling as fast as he could up the inclined chute to tumble into a small depression beyond an undulating ridge. For a moment, all he could do was lie there, gasping for breath. He was in shock. He had never done anything like that in his life before and if circumstances had been different, he would have vowed never to do it again.

But he couldn't.

Reluctantly, Pilot glanced above up, his eye following the chute as it wound away in the direction of Moya's command. Suddenly, everything seemed a lot less simple. 

The encounter had changed things; he learned things about his resources, things that were less than beneficial. His old idea for taking the command had just been rendered unworkable.

It was time for a change of plan.

END OF PART FIVE.

   [1]: mailto:jesspallas@hotmail.com



	4. Part six (final)

In The Flesh – Part Six

In The Flesh – Part Six.

By Jess Pallas.

Disclaimer; I don't own Farscape or any of its characters. Please don't sue me!

Feedback; Go on then! E-mail me at [jesspallas@hotmail.com][1]

Archiving; If you like it, take it. But please, let me know first.

Rating: Not sure what the standard is but I'd guess at PG and General. No naughtiness (sorry shippers) but there are a few fights.

Spoilers; Mild ones only. Reference to OOTM, LATP, TWWW and DMS. There are also mild spoilers for my previous fic, Time and Again.

Timeframe; Season two, after LATP. This story assumes the events of Time and Again occurred, though it's not vital to have read it first.

Summary: Trapped in Aeryn's body, Pilot must save the day when Moya is taken over by pirates.

Note:This is a sort of follow-up to the events of OOTM. Although I love that episode, I always though it was a shame they didn't do more with it, especially as regards to Pilot. I would have liked to see him leave his chamber and what his reaction to that would have been. It occurred to me that if he was in Aeryn, he might not have any problems moving around, since her body contains some of his DNA. I also thought it might be good to get Moya involved in the body swapping, however peripherally. This story is a result of those thoughts.

Recap: Moya has been taken over by pirates using the salvaged Halos 1. As a result of their attack, Aeryn and Pilot have switched bodies, as have Chiana and Moya, putting the lives of both in serious jeopardy. The rest of the crew, unaffected, have been taken captive by the pirates and are being held in command. Pilot, the only member of the crew still at large, has discovered the Rani device and managed to restore its functions, using it to manipulate Moya's unconscious body. After a dangerous plan to eliminate some of the pirates barely suceeds, Pilot must now make his way to command and somehow free the others before Moya and Chiana are lost entirely…

Jak waited.

The corridor was dark; silence hung in the air like a menacing pall. In the command, all was quiet and still. Even the light seemed diminished, smaller somehow, shrunk into insignificance in the face of the advancing darkness. The faces around him were statuesque – the five prisoners, huddled in their alcove, watching the entrance with wide eyes for signs of life and his own men, the two remaining guards, faceless, blank but strangely apprehensive and Grajul the tech, cowering nervously over his devices as he tried and failed to bring the leviathan's systems back on line. The suddenness of the unexpected attack had shocked them all and left Jak more than a little confused. He had assumed the displaced Pilot would be a passive creature who would stay out of his way, not an aggressor starting a fight. A glance at the prisoners during the assault had confirmed this view; they were obviously astonished by this out of character audacity. So what did it all mean? There was only one thing it could mean as far as Jak was concerned.

The Pilot was up to something.

When the violence of weapons fire and the cries of his men had faded into the black beyond, Jak had taken a moment to examine the incident. A quick mental recounting had revealed something he had initially missed – the Pilot's bad aim. It had only struck a target once and that had not been serious – the casualty was more angry than hurt and had moved quickly in pursuit. This could simply be because of its inexperience in this body but Jak didn't buy that for a moment. A creature with the mental precision and navigational skills to fly a being such as a leviathan should not have any problem striking a mark. Which meant it must have missed on purpose. But why?

Jak felt himself go cold as the answer came. The cunning jeebo!

He had drawn them out on purpose.

The attack was not a genuine assault at all; it was nothing more than a cheap distraction, intended to anger his men into pursuit. And it had worked like a charm. Silently Jak cursed his own stupidity. Once out there in the dark labyrinth of the leviathan's insides, the Pilot would have the advantage. It could pick his men off one by one, confuse them, lose them and double back to…

Here.

Jak shot a glance at the pale grey Nebari whose closed eyes hide the deep blue of a leviathan soul. It knew. It had to. And it had deliberately lessened the number of enemies it would have to get passed in order to retrieve its precious partner. Jak had to admire its strategy – it was worthy of a Taurax. So now what should he do? His men had been gone a long time and Jak was doubtful they would be returning any time in the near future – the Pilot would see to that. It could be on its way back to the command already; it might have even arrived. It could be watching. Quietly, subtly the pirate swept the edges of the command with his eyes. He saw no movement in the alcoves; the vents were dark and still. He frowned to himself. Could he have been mistaken? 

But then something caught his eye; a sliver of movement just above his head. He risked a casual glance and caught a glimpse of a dark shadowy shape flitting through the vaults and cables of the ceiling. He felt eyes on him, but he didn't meet them, concealing his knowledge behind a casual smile. So it was there. It was watching.

Let it watch.

He needed to regain the advantage. At the moment, the Pilot was in control, watching, waiting for its moment to strike. He had to disrupt that calm, give it something to think about, get it to play it's hand before it was ready and blank itself out of the game. He had to break it.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

***********************************

John could barely contain himself. What the Hell was Pilot thinking?

There had been no reason for that attack. None at all. It was pointless, only serving to antagonise the enemy and reveal his presence to them. And it was so out of character! Pilot was not a violent creature by nature – true he had issued several nasty bruises with those claws of his in his time but that was merely in self-defence. So why in God's name had he suddenly decided to make an all out attack on pirate central? What had he possibly hoped to gain apart from a quick glimpse of Moya and a rapid trip into the afterlife?

Moya. John sighed to himself. Maybe that was it. Pilot had been known to behave irrationally in times of extreme stress – perhaps this was symptomatic of the same thing. Disconnected from Moya, cut of from the crew, alone for the first time in cycles in a body he barely knew – it was enough to send the most emotionally controlled person kooky and as Pilot had demonstrated in that business with Aeryn and the tape, under that calm visage, he was really not all that stable. Perhaps the attack had been sheer desperation, a furious, impulsive attempt to get closer to Moya, brought on by the mental instability of a multi-tasking brain trapped in a Sebacean form. John felt cold inside at the prospect. If Pilot really had cracked, then it didn't bode well for any of them. He was liable to get himself killed – and take the rest of them with him.

He shot a quick glance at Zhaan who was tending to Moya, a concerned look on her azure face. The leviathan had noticeably deteriorated in the last half arn – her breathing was shallow, her pulse dangerously faint as she slipped in and out of consciousness. Under her breath, she continued to mutter inaudibly, tossing her head and flickering her eyelids to reveal little flashes of sapphire blue light. The Delvian caught his eyes and her expression was tellingly grim. If they didn't act soon, they were going to lose her.

At least D'Argo had come round. The big Luxan had struggled back to full consciousness just before Pilot's unexpected appearance. Zhaan had quickly explained the situation to him and ever since, he had been sat, leaning gently against the golden bulkhead, staring at the ceiling. Nothing was said, but he was clearly thinking of Chiana.

D'Argo's revival gave John hope. With the Luxan back on form, it gave them a chance at an escape. Much as he hated to admit it, Pilot's assault had done one beneficial thing – it had reduced the number of guards they would have to deal with in order to get free. Now the human was thinking hard, considering his next move. It would be best to act before the others came back, obviously. Maybe if they could take them by surprise.

The thought broke off. A shadow fell across them all; the two guards parted and wheeled to face them, guns trained on their heads. Into the gap sauntered the smirking form of Jak. He ran his eyes across their faces, drinking in the confusion, the anger and the fear he found there and his grin spread.

"Having a good time?" he drawled.

D'Argo fixed him with an icy glare – John could tell his tongue was twitching. But Jak merely smiled further.

"Keep your mouth closed, Luxan," he said jovially. "Your tongue would look impressive in my trophy chamber – and I don't need the rest of your head intact to retrieve it." He ignored the low growl that issued from D'Argo's throat and turned to John and Zhaan. "Your little friend doesn't look well," he commented with mock concern, features drawn in an artful parody of sympathy. "Maybe she needs more help than you can offer." He grinned mirthlessly. "She'd better come with me!"

He snapped his fingers and his men reacted instantly.One guard lunged forward, shoving Zhaan forcefully into John as he shoved his rifle into the face of D'Argo. His companion darted forward and swept up the limp Nebari form, lifting her from the ground and carrying her quickly from the alcove. John let out a yell and surged to his feet, rushing at Jak with murder in his eyes but the pirate was ready; with a smug grin, he swept his fist into his face. John reeled back, blood pouring from his nose as he collided with Zhaan and D'Argo, both of whom had been crowding to his aid. The three collapsed in a heap beside the wide eyed and cowering Rygel as the last remaining guard stepped abruptly into place, rifle trained on them all.

"Nobody tries that again," he drawled.

John ignored him, stumbling to his feet. He half considered a rush but the raised rifle of the pirate advised him better. Ignoring the blank face of his captor, he peered passed him, eyes fixed on Jak and Moya. Behind him, he felt Zhaan and D'Argo at his shoulder, their gazes also locked on the scene unfolding beyond their reach.

Jak's guard had carried the Nebari across the command, dumping her half-dead form on the strategy table. With a flick of his hand Jak motioned the guard to one side, grasping the grey wrists of his weakly struggling captive and pushing her backwards. Moya kicked and twisted but she simply did not have the strength necessary to get free. She turned her face away, crying out her mysterious word over and over in despair as Jak pressed her down forcefully, his expression fixed with a cold smirk. 

"Leave her alone!" Zhaan's voice cut through the air angrily. The Delvian had half-stepped forward, only to have the muzzle of the gun shoved into her stomach. She defiantly ignored it.

"What kind of animal are you?" she almost screamed. The guard pushed her back roughly but the priestess was not to be silenced. "Assaulting the defenceless! Is that how you get your power? You're pathetic!"

John could his blood boiling. He exchanged a quick glance with D'Argo; there was fire in the Luxan's eyes. The guard was distracted by Zhaan; this could be their moment. Silently he mouthed a count. Three, two, one…

"Get your hands _off her_!!!"

A bolt of scarlet energy seared the air, colliding into the strategy table with a shocking bang. Even as Jak jumped back in apparent shock, releasing Moya who rolled from the table and vanished underneath, a dark figure dropped from the vaults of the ceiling, a black silhouette lost in the shadows just outside the ball of light. A pair pale of hands swept into view, wrapped around the handle of a jet pulse pistol. The barrel was trained on Jak. The hands were shaking with fury.

Jak's guard had leapt to attention, rifle half-cocked but Jak waylaid him with a gesture. He turned slowly, his eyes fixed on the shadowy figure before him. A slow smile spread across his face.

"I've been waiting for you," he said.

"Sorry to have kept you," The voice was unmistakably Aeryn's but there was something about the way she spoke that told John all was not right. The words seemed brash enough, but they lacked the edge of confidence with which Aeryn would have made such a statement. The gun was still aimed fairly and squarely between Jak's eyes, but the manner of the double handed grip looked uncomfortable – almost as though the fingers had had to be forced into place. John sighed. In Pilot's case, they probably had been.

Jak's eyes never left his opponent. "Are you just going to point that thing or are you going to shoot it?" he commented dryly. He took a step forward. "I haven't got all day, you know."

"Don't move!" Pilot ordered but there was a noticeable lack of conviction in the way he spoke. Jak took another step and he shifted his grip on the gun. "I mean it! I will kill you!"

Jak shook his head, his smile spreading. Like John, he had clearly caught the hysterical edge to the voice. Despite the fact Pilot held the gun, Jak held the upper hand.

_Dammit, Pilot, shoot the bastard! _John thought to himself, wishing heartily he were telepathic. _Why the frell is he hesitating?_

Jak took another step. "You won't fire that gun. It's not in your nature." The smile never left his face. "Now why don't you give that thing to me and scuttle back into the dark where you belong?"

"I am a peacekeeper!" Aeryn's voice surged from the darkness. For a moment, John could have almost believed it was her. "I could kill you where you stand!"

Abruptly Pilot stepped into the pool of light, Aeryn's pale but set features washed in suddenly in yellow. John had to say, he looked awful. Aeryn's usually immaculate dark hair was a tangled mess, sculpted into a bizarre series of solid loops by what looked like dried amnexus fluid. Aeryn's pale arms were torn and scratched, her clothing was dirty. But as John stared at her face, he caught sight of Aeryn's eyes – or what had been Aeryn's eyes. Instead of the familiar blue, the eyes were burning like two golden suns, miniature replicas of Pilot's real eyes, left behind in the switch. Behind him, John heard Zhaan gasp as she noticed the same thing. John guessed at once what had happened; the dormant pilot DNA in Aeryn's body had found a new lease of life. Quietly John swore to himself. When Aeryn saw what Pilot had done to her body, she was going to freak!

Pilot's golden eyes had fixed on Jak. He was braced and tense, Aeryn's features solidly determined, but there was an edge of doubt lurking behind the confident front. John could sense his uncertainty and he knew Jak could sense it too.

Would Pilot be able to fire?

"I know who you are," Jak was watching his would-be assailant with an expression of wry humour. "Your little friends over there let it slip. You are no peacekeeper." His smile was predatory. "You are nothing more than a displaced Pilot."

Pilot's expression visibly slipped. His eyes widened; his mouth slipped half-open. He looked shocked. John felt much the same way himself. How the frell could Jak have gotten that information? There was no way he could have overheard that conversation….

Unless he'd bugged them.

John cursed his own stupidity. Of course he would have bugged them! Prisoners were unlikely to divulge important information willingly. And now they had given Jak just the edge he needed.

The pirate was smiling confidently. "I know of your species," he said, his voice a model of calm, almost soothing rationality. "I know you do not believe in the use of violence against other beings." He began to walk forward slowly, advancing on Pilot with one hand outstretched. Pilot's confident front seemed to have dissolved with his exposure; his hands had lowered slightly, and he was biting his lip, clearly nervous and uncertain of how to act.

"You are who you are no matter what form you wear. Your race choose those who are to be Pilot's for their placid nature." Jak continued, suddenly the voice of reason. 

"Would you betray the tenets of your people?"

That clearly struck a nerve; Pilot's less than straightforward history related to his bonding had made him almost obsessive about doing things properly. Aeryn's shoulders dropped; the gun began to sag. A shiver seemed to run through his borrowed form; suddenly he seemed almost hesitant and very much over his head. Jak was only yards away – one hand reached forward, hovering tantalisingly over the barrel of the gun.

"You won't shoot me. So why don't you stop pretending and give me that gun."

"Pilot, shoot him!" D'Argo's powerful voice echoed across the command. Pilot cast an almost plaintive glance at the Luxan; he obviously had no idea what to do. John gritted his teeth.

"Pilot, SHOOT!!!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to make it less advice and more an order. But it was no use. It was already too late.

Jak's hand closed around the gun. He tugged sharply and Pilot's fingers released all at once. The displaced navigator barely seemed to comprehend what had just happened; he staggered back wide eyed as Jak smirked at him, bouncing Aeryn's gun in one hand, shaking his head in amusement.

"You fool!" he said laughing out loud as he tossed his head back. "You utter fool!"

Slumping against the bulkhead, John had to agree. They were screwed, their last chance at a rescue shot to Hell because Pilot had lost his nerve. _Damn!_

Jak was laughing his head off. Pilot looked distinctly intimidated. He started to back away but the jerk of a rifle from Jak's guard stayed him in his tracks. Jak himself had begun sauntering in circles around the command, waving the pulse pistol mockingly by its barrel.

"That was too easy!" he crowed, wheeling to face his shocked and humiliated foe. 

"You pilots have got to be one of the stupidest species around!" 

Pilot's jaw tensed angrily but he did not rise to the bait. Jak didn't seem to care, too caught up in relishing in his victory.

"And to think I was worried about you! I thought you might hinder my plans! And what do I find? A pathetic, gullible excuse for a life form! Did you really think a worthless navigator who's spent the last frig knows how long sitting on its backside in the same room could take on the might of Jak Cordak? Ha!"

John glanced at Pilot, aware of just how tetchy he could be about personal abuse. The navigator stood frozen in position, eyes burning intensely, expression set. He was watching Jak wheeling around the command with the intensity of a hunting hawk. One hand had come to rest gently against his hip and abruptly his fingers seemed to jerk; John caught a flash of something black but it was lost as Pilot palmed it quickly. To John's astonishment, a flash of satisfaction seemed to flicker across his face. The human shot a glance at Zhaan who tilted her head quizzically – she had seen it to. John suddenly got the distinct impression that Pilot was up to something.

"Chosen ones indeed!" Jak had come to a halt beside Grajul the tech and his guard, by the forward portal, well away from both the limp form of Moya and his cornered prisoners. He wheeled to face Pilot, his face spilt by a huge mocking grin. "If you're an example of a chosen one, I'd hate to meet a reject!"

And then Pilot smiled. Somehow he managed to imbue easily as much menace into the expression as Jak.

"You already have!" he said too sweetly. "I was never chosen!"

His hand flashed up, the black device extended. Eyes alight, he pointed it at Jak and pressed down.

The pulse pistol exploded.

The command shook with the shock of the blast. Jak, Grajul and one of the guards were hurled to the ground by a ball of crimson light, with barely time to scream. The second guard stumbled back with a cry as his rifle fizzled with yellow energy – D'Argo reacted instantly to his distraction, his tongue slashing out like a whip. The guard's knees buckled and he slumped unconscious to the ground.

There was a moment of utter silence. John, Zhaan, D'Argo and Rygel had been protected from the blast by the shelter of the alcove; Moya had been safely cocooned under the strategy table. The four pirates lay motionless on the floor, three of them blackened and burned by the explosion. Jak had been holding the gun at the time of ignition – his hand and lower arm were in shreds and his face was scarred and raw. His eyes were open but there was no consciousness behind them. John grinned in spite of himself. _Bastard's not smiling any more!_

One person who was smiling, however was Pilot. The navigator surveyed the carnage with something almost akin to satisfaction.

"That'll teach him to underestimate my species!" he said smugly.

A cry from Moya arrested the attention of all. The displaced leviathan was huddled in a ball under the strategy table, her borrowed Nebari features filled with fear. She called out her mysterious word once more, eyes fixed on the tattered Sebacean standing in the middle of the chamber. Pilot was across the command in microts, crouching beside her and murmuring reassuringly in his own language. Whether or not Moya understood what he was saying, John was never sure, but she had obviously recognised him for her features filled with relief and she buried her head into Aeryn's shoulder. Pilot dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around her as he cooed reassuringly.

Exchanging a glance with John, Zhaan hurried across the room to their side. D'Argo, ignoring Rygel's protest at being left on foot and alone, abandoned the alcove that had so long been their prison and moved to examine the unconscious forms of the pirates. John paused, exchanging a smile with the Luxan as he hovered over Jak with a menacing grin, lofting the Qualta blade he had just retrieved from a pile of confiscated items, then went to crouch beside Zhaan.

"You guys okay?" he asked.

Pilot glanced at him and nodded. "We'll be fine. Moya is just a little stressed. She needs time to calm down."

"You understand what's she's saying?"

Pilot shrugged. "Of course not. She hasn't said anything. I can feel her emotions."

"Actually, she has been saying something. The same word over and over again. We didn't have a clue what it meant though. Maybe she was just rambling."

Pilot looked curious. "What word was that?"

John tried to pronounce it but his tongue issued a flat refusal. "I can't say it," he confessed. "But it was the same one she said a microt ago when she called out to you. You know what it means?"

"Yes."

John rolled his eyes. "You gonna tell me?"

"If you want."

The human glared. "Well? I'm dying of curiosity!"

"I think that's an exaggeration."

"Pilot!"

"All right!" The navigator looked up, his expression strangely wistful. "It's my name. My real name."

"That's your name? That?" John tried to say it again and once more, he failed miserably. "I've sneezed more pronounceable names than yours!"

Pilot shrugged again. "Why do you think I'm just called Pilot?"

John sighed. "I will never understand you. Just when I think I've got you figured out, you trip me up again! I mean, what the Hell was going on with Jak? Why didn't you just shoot him?"

Pilot looked at Crichton as though he was a child. "Because his men would have shot me! I had to take them all out at once or not at all." He shifted his grip on Moya and held up the Rani device. "I found this on the lower tiers. It belonged to the Rani. They used it to manipulate Moya's body. It was broken but I fixed it so it would activate minimal functions and ignite proximate pulse chambers. But I didn't realise the pirates had electro-rifles – I'm not sure even they did. When I found out my device would only short their guns and not knock them out, I knew I wouldn't be able to act from a distance any more. I had to get involved and get them in proximity to something that would ignite."

"Like a pulse pistol," Zhaan intervened.

John stared. "You let him take the gun _on purpose_?"

Pilot raised an eyebrow. "Well of course! You don't think I'd be so stupid as to surrender my only means of defence without a reason, do you?"

"I…" John suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He sighed, fixing Pilot with a rueful grin. 

"I feel like I owe you an apology," he said.

Pilot looked at him quizzically. "For what?"

John glanced away awkwardly. "Well, when I found out our lives were in your hands, instead of Aeryn's, I have to admit, I was apprehensive. And then we heard you getting upset over the comms and then that stupid attack – why the Hell did you do that anyway? – and then you giving Jak your gun, I… well… I thought for sure you'd cracked!"

Pilot smiled. "I did, a little. But cracks can heal, commander."

"I see that." John reached out and patted him on the shoulder. He grinned suddenly. 

"Boy, can you act!" he exclaimed. "You had me fooled! I'm not sure I'll ever be able to believe a word you say again!"

Pilot looked up. "I hope you believe this. We have to act quickly. There are more pirates at large on this ship and even more on the Mot-Halos. We will need control of both ships if we are to save Moya and Chiana."

John met his eyes, disconcerting as they were in Aeryn's face. "You got a plan?"

Pilot nodded. "Aeryn has already started on it. We need to get to my chamber, but we have to careful. There are patrols on the lower tiers and Aeryn is being guarded."

"Roger that." John wandered over to the guard D'Argo had floored and quickly palmed his rifle. "Well I'm ready!" he exclaimed. "I've been looking forward to this all day!"

Pilot smiled. Zhaan had already come to his side. Gently, albeit with noticeable reluctance, Pilot released Moya and handed her into Zhaan's welcoming arms. D'Argo strode over to the corner where Grajul the tech had dumped the confiscated goods and yanked free Rygel's Thronesled. The tiny dominar gave a cry of joy as he waddled over and almost snatched it from the Luxan's hands, settling into plan with a wide, comfortable grin. Zhaan rose, holding the limp Nebari form with care. Pilot, John noted stayed solicitously at her side.

The five exchanged sudden grins. Then together, they abandoned the command and set out to take their ship back.

******************************

"Why do I have to be the frelling distraction?"

D'Argo rolled his eyes. After several arns trapped in a confined space with Rygel, he had had more than enough of the Hynerian's whining.

"Because I say so!" he said with menace, towering over the deposed dominar.

John was a little more diplomatic. "Sparky, we've been through this. Zhaan has to stay with Moya and Pilot's exhausted. Me and D'Argo are the only two around here who are ready to kick ass, but we can't do that until someone brings us some ass to kick!"

"I won't do it!" Rygel moved to turn his thronesled, but D'Argo grabbed it's back, hauling the Hynerian unwillingly back into the huddle. Rygel fixed the Luxan with an icy glare.

"It's undignified! I am a Hynerian dominar, not a target!"

John leaned forward, sweeping a friendly arm across Rygel's small green shoulders. "Come on, Buckwheat! You the one who's always saying you're a dominar of action! Here's your chance to prove it!"

Pilot stepped forward. Aeryn's features looked washed out and pale; the legs of his Sebacean form were trembling. The strains of the last few arns had begun to catch up with him. Despite this, he managed to draw himself up.

"I can do it, commander. I'm not really that tired and…."

"No, Pilot!" John cut him off. "You ain't tired. You're whacked! Beat up! You need a break. Take a look at yourself! You can hardly walk! No, you've done more than enough already. It's Sparky's turn to make himself useful for once!"

"For once!" Rygel hovered forward indignantly. "I resent that…"

But he got no further. D'Argo's waning patience eclipsed entirely. He lunged forward, grabbed the squealing Hynerian by his tunic front and hoisted him into the air.

"Shut up!" he bellowed. "I am sick of the sound of your whining little voice! Either you help us now or I flush your worthless form into space!"

Rygel choked. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I?" D'Argo wheeled on Pilot. "Pilot, where's the nearest airlock?"

"Actually there is one not far from here," Pilot replied with clinical detachment, but John got the impression he was fighting amusement. "I could show you…"

"All right, all right, you heartless probaktos! I'll do it! I'll frelling do it! Just let me go!" Rygel was kicking his legs in the air frantically. Abruptly D'Argo released him and he tumbled back into his thronesled with a thump. He grumbled to himself for a moment, adjusting his position and glaring at D'Argo with towering resentment. Then, without a word, he turned and guided his thronesled in the direction of Pilot's chamber. John exchanged a glance with Zhaan.

"You guys be okay back here?" he asked the Delvian, who was tending to Moya with a compassionate expression. The priestess nodded. 

"We'll be fine. You go and free Aeryn."

D'Argo had already set out after Rygel, his rangy strides eating into the Hynerian's lead. John grinned.

"I'd better go and play referee. I'll call when it's clear."

"Good luck, John," Zhaan replied as he turned away. "And be careful."

The human laughed. "Don't worry. Pilot said there's only two. And anyway, if we do mess up..." He broke of with a grin at Pilot. "We can always call in the cavalry!"

******************************

What the frell was taking so long?

Aeryn hated waiting. She hated anything that evolved long periods of inaction. And she was worried. Ever since Pilot's brief visit, she had been unable to take her mind off him. Just what was this great plan of his? Was there even a hope of it being successful? And how long would it be before she got some frelling answers?

She hadn't been totally inactive of course. The minimal functions Pilot had managed to restore to his console had at least given her something to do, although she would have given a lot for access to a few DRDs to send in search of the others. As requested, she had carefully sealed every duct and conduit into Pilot's chamber, despite having no idea what she was doing it for. She found herself cursing Pilot for not being more forthcoming. He could have at least given her some idea of what was going on! She was beginning to understand just why Pilot could be so tetchy sometimes about being left out of the loop. She silently resolved to keep him better informed in the future.

She glanced at Ragit and Nuin, noting with mild amusement that they looked almost as bored as her. They were probably thinking much the same things about their crewmates. Could this really get any more tedious or frustrating? Why couldn't something just_ happen_?

The thought had barely echoed in her mind when at long last something did.

The door to the chamber swung open. In the corridor outside, Rygel hovered on his thronesled, a superior expression on his face. He was holding a small container.

"Yotzing prabaktos!" he roared at the Ragit and Nuin who had stumbled to their feet in astonishment. "Take this!"

He hurled the container with all his might. His aim was exceptional considering the size of his arms. It struck Nuin across the face, shattering on impact to smother the pirate with what looked and smelt remarkably like Zhaan's bio-paste. The guard staggered back with a gasp, retching at the smell.

"Ha!" Rygel exclaimed. "What do you have to say about that?"

"You little slug!" Ragit bellowed. He grasped his rifle menacingly. Nuin was not slow to follow.

"You'll pay for that!

"You'll have to catch me first!" Rygel grinned broadly and hit a panel on his thronesled's arm. The sled shot up like a rocket an instant before the wall behind him exploded with weapons fire. Furious and impulsive, the two pirates hurled themselves forward in pursuit.

Straight into a trap. 

Aeryn didn't see exactly what happened. One moment Ragit and Nuin had passed the threshold to the chamber, gazing up in the air in an effort to spot the object of their wraith. The next, they were lying in an unconscious heap on the floor. Even as Aeryn stared, D'Argo and John stepped into view, wearing matching, distinctly smug expressions.

"It's clear, guys!" John called back down the corridor. Then he turned to Aeryn and smiled cheekily.

"I hate to say this, baby, but I think you're putting on weight!"

Aeryn fought with herself, determined not to smile but relief won out over indignation.

"That isn't funny," she said.

John shrugged as he stepped over Ragit's prostrate form and entered the chamber.

"Well, funny or not, it's good to see ya," he said sincerely. He paused a moment and added. "Even if you do look weird as Hell!"

"Hey!" An indignant protest issued from the doorway as Pilot appeared in Aeryn's body, a few steps ahead of Zhaan who was carrying the prostrate form of Chiana.

"Do you mind?"

"For Aeryn! She looks weird for Aeryn!" John wheeled quickly, in an attempt to platicate Pilot but the look on his face implied there was little point. "I was just… oh never mind!" He turned back to Aeryn. "As you can see, we escaped."

"Actually," Pilot intervened as he strode across the walkway confidently. "I freed them."

Aeryn wasn't listening. She was staring at her dishevelled body with wide eyes.

"What the frell have you been doing with my body?" she exclaimed. "You look like you've fought a war!My arms are covered in scratches! And what's that in my hair?"

"Amnexus fluid." Pilot blushed slightly. "I fell down a chute into one of the pools. That's where the scratches come from too." 

John snickered but quickly suppressed it on meeting Pilot's steely glare. Aeryn suddenly squinted at her still flushed face. She did not look happy. 

"What is wrong with my eyes?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

Pilot stopped, raising her hands. "Now that is not my fault! I think it is my DNA reacting to my presence. It should revert once we are all back in our rightful bodies."

"And if not?"

Pilot shrugged. "You will have better eyesight."

The look on her face made him pause. "I still have Cornata's formula on file," he added quickly. "I'm sure that would reverse it."

Aeryn was watching him suspiciously. "Good. Now are you going to tell me what the frell you've been doing all this time?"

"I thought that was obvious. I was freeing them!" Pilot looked mildly annoyed as he started forward again. "And it would be nice if someone around here showed a little gratitude. I haven't exactly been enjoying myself!"

"Nice work," Aeryn felt a little surge of guilt. She felt sure all that time she'd spent doubting him was written across her face and she fought a mild embarrassment. 

"You're walking's improved," she commented instead.

Pilot shrugged. "I've been getting a lot of practice." He pulled himself up onto the console, examining the readouts with precision.

"Nice work yourself," he added. "You've sealed the chamber excellently." He glanced up at D'Argo. "If you could come inside now and lock the door, I would be most grateful."

Settling himself in a more convenient position, he reached out and carefully inserted the Rani device into the conduit-riddled underside of one of his control panels. Lowering it with a single touch, he turned and began adjusting a variety of systems. Aeryn watched him curiously and not without apprehension.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Preparing to send a surge through Moya's systems," Pilot sounded as though he was reporting the weather. "If I can tap the Rani device correctly, I should be able to use the conduit junctions to electrify Moya's inner skin. That should knock out any pirates who remain unaccounted for without causing Moya, Chiana or my body any harm." He glanced up. "Does anybody know exactly how many came on board?"

"I counted twenty." D'Argo told him. "I took careful note for when we would need to break free."

Pilot did a quick count. "So that's four in command, five in the backwash chamber, three in the maintenance bay, one at the junction on the lower tiers, two out there and the one I knocked out in the neural cluster. That's sixteen, so we have four still to find. I suspect they are on the lower tiers so I will concentrate the surge there." He hit a few more controls. "Ready, everyone?"

"Whoa, whoa!" John stepped forward. "What about us?"

"I had Aeryn seal off this chamber. We'll be perfectly safe."

John was shaking his head. "Pilot, I don't know about this…"

But the navigator wasn't listening. "Electrifying now."

Moya's body shook violently; it was only D'Argo's quick reflexes that keep John from taking a nasty spill off the walkway. There was a shudder and a flash of blue light. Then everything went still.

Pilot smiled with satisfaction. "There. That should do it. It will take me awhile to adjust Moya's Starburst circuits to emit the same pulse to the Mot-Halos. I suggest you use that time to find the pirates and load them into a transport."

"You're gonna _what_? Pilot, things are going way too fast here! Slow down a second!"

John hurried across the walkway, his expression anxious. Beside Pilot, Aeryn looked equally concerned.

"Pilot, if you could just take the time to explain this…" she began, but Pilot cut her off.

"Time is the one thing we don't have, Officer Sun. Moya and Chiana are dying. We have to act with all possible haste." He glanced at her. "Unless you want to wait for more of my DNA to reassert itself."

Aeryn sighed. "All right. Let's do it. John, take D'Argo and Rygel and hunt down those pirates. Zhaan take Chi… Moya to her quarters and wait with her there. We'll signal when it's time."

A series of glances flurried about. But with a variety of shrugs and surprisingly little protest, the crew of Moya dispersed as ordered out of the chamber.

**********************************

Due to the complexity of the adaptation of Moya's systems, it was several arns before Pilot was ready to begin his audacious assault on the pirate vessel. John and D'Argo had used the time well, loading the unconscious bodies of the pirates already accounted for into a transport pod whilst Rygel searched the lower tiers for the four still at large. He had found them easily – it appeared they had all returned to meet up with Unrar and Areni at the junction as ordered. So they to were carted up to the hanger, freeing Moya at long last of the presence of invaders.

Now all they had to do was put things right.

Their luck was in. The Mot-Halos, whether through strategy or accident, had taken up a holding position just beyond Moya's tapered rear. A few quick adjustments to Moya's orbit had been all it took to place them in a direct line of fire. Then, with the crew braced and ready to board, Pilot had triggered the pulse.

The console had exploded.

Luckily no one had been hurt, although Aeryn and Pilot had both been more than a little shocked. Closer inspection revealed the damage was not as bad as they had first feared; it was not Pilot's controls that had self-destructed but the Rani device, overloaded by the strain of a botched repair job and slightly over inflated expectation. Pilot was confident the panel was easily fixable, although he looked a little disappointed; he hoped to study the Rani device further, perhaps find out more about precisely how it worked. Aeryn said nothing, but she was obviously relieved to see it gone at last.

To the surprise of all, Pilot then discovered that the pulse had emitted after all and appeared to have had the desired effect on the crew of the Mot-Halos, although with limited functions in his console, he had a hard time being sure. John and D'Argo had immediately headed to the maintenance bay and armed themselves heavily – even Rygel acquired himself a pulse pistol. Zhaan had joined them outside the transport pod not long after, casting worried looks over her shoulder. She was no keener on leaving Moya alone than Pilot was but if this was to be successful, she had to place her where Chiana had been at the time of the switch and that meant in Chiana's cell. To position her anywhere else would put a successful reversion at risk. Cautious and well armed, the four had then boarded the pod and set out for the Mot-Halos, leaving Aeryn and Pilot alone.

For a while, nothing was said. Pilot passed the time tweaking at the damaged panel; Aeryn seemed quite content to stare off into space. In silence, they waited. 

It was Aeryn who ventured the first hardy words into the quietude.

"Pilot?" 

The navigator glanced up at once. "Yes, Aeryn?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

He looked puzzled. "For what?"

"For shouting at you earlier, when you got upset. You had every right to be distressed and I wasn't very tolerant."

Pilot shook Aeryn's dark head at once. "There is no need for an apology. I was being irrational. If I had been thinking straight, I would never have behaved like that. It was just…" He struggled to find words to explain that would be simple enough for the translator microbes to interpret. "It was too different," he said finally. "I do not adapt well to change. And the thought of leaving my chamber was terrifying. It is the first place in my life where I have ever really been content. I thought if I left, I would put myself in danger." He smiled wryly. "I was right."

Aeryn smiled with him. "But you handled it brilliantly."

Pilot's wry expression spread. "I would not say that."

"Well, I would. I have to admit, Pilot, after you spoke to me, I was very apprehensive. I wasn't sure you'd be able to pull a rescue of any kind off. But you proved me wrong and I'm very glad to be so!"

Pilot looked at her quizzically. "You know, Crichton said something similar up in command."

"It's not an insult," Aeryn added hastily. "I mean it in a good way."

"I know. Do not worry, Aeryn." Pilot smiled suddenly. "I have to admit there were times when I wondered myself."

"But you did well." Aeryn paused, with a mock glare. "Even if you did make a mess of my body in the process! And after all the care I took with yours! I certainly won't be lending it to you again!"

"I wouldn't want it!" Pilot responded hastily. "No offence Aeryn, but I will be quite happy if I never have to walk again!"

"Aeryn, Pilot, can you guys hear me?" John's voice crackled over the comm. Pilot leaned forward at once.

"We hear you Crichton. What is your status?"

"Your little shock worked like a charm. Every pirate on the ship is out for the count. We've unloaded our guests on their own ship and Zhaan's standing by the controls. You guys ready for this?"

Pilot glanced at Aeryn; she nodded his head decisively as she activated the carefully repowered defence screen. Smiling, Pilot turned back to the comm. 

"We are ready, Crichton. Proceed."

"You got it. Powering forward cannon now. Hold onto your hats!"

Pilot settled back quickly, bracing Aeryn's body for the blast. Aeryn met his eyes.

"I can't wait to get back to normal!" she exclaimed with Pilot's voice.

Pilot nodded her head in agreement. "Me too!"

Zhaan's voice interrupted. "Firing!"

The impact was shocking. Moya shook and rolled – white light shimmered over everything. Pilot was flung forward against the console; he felt a tugging and a sharp detachment. Everything seemed to spin together, lights, sounds, noises, sweeping him up in a strange whirlpool of raw sensation. He felt himself spiral down, felt the sudden reassuring presence of his own familiar form. But them the whirlpool opened out and he was engulfed by blackness.

*************************************

"Pilot, can you hear me? Pilot?"

Aeryn's strong voice was like a magnet in the dark; the blackness faded and Pilot struggled back to consciousness. Sensation returned in a rush, light, sound, feel. He became aware of his body – _his_ body – cocooning him comfortably once more. But more importantly, he sensed Moya, her familiar presence permeating his senses like wave after wave of pure sensation. He felt her joy, her relief at being safely returned to her own form and he shared in it, laughing with her in the silence of his mind. They were themselves again! They were together!

But then reality intruded. He became aware – properly aware of his physical form. Everything seemed to ache; his whole body felt taut with tension. He got the distinct impression that Aeryn had not relaxed once the entire time she had been in there and now he was feeling the effects. He shifted himself carefully in his ring, readjusting himself to a position he felt comfortable with. He heard Aeryn's voice calling to him again and realised it was probably time to respond. Reluctantly, carefully he opened his eyes.

Aeryn's pale face filled his vision, her eyes – blue once more - filled with concern. Pilot had to admit he hadn't noticed just how tangled her once immaculate hair had become or quite how raw the skin of her arms were. She looked awful. He felt a rush of guilt.

"I did make a mess of you," he commented groggily. "Aeryn, I must apologise!"

"Forget it," Aeryn brushed him off, although Pilot was sure she would be back to have words with him about it later when she discovered the full extent of the bruising.

"How are feeling?" 

"I am fine, thank you." Pilot sat up, examining his consoles with a rush of satisfaction. It was good to be home.

"And Moya?"

"Moya is very happy to be back. I have to admit to sharing her euphoria. I hope we never have to go through that again!"

"Agreed!" Aeryn smiled as she manoeuvred backwards, dropping down onto the walkway with a great deal more grace than Pilot had ever managed. "Is everything working again?"

Pilot performed a rapid diagnostic. "Moya's systems are fully functional."

"Aeryn! Pilot! Did it work?" John's voice interrupted over the speakers. Aeryn smiled and reached for her comm. 

"It worked fine, John. Pilot and I are back and so is Moya. I can only assume that means Chiana is all right as well."

"It might be a good idea to check on her," D'Argo's deep voice betrayed his concern. "Just to be sure."

"I'll get right on it. Are you coming back now?"

"Try and stop us!" John replied. "And have Pilot rev up StarBurst, will ya? I want to get far away from Jak Cordak and his merry men before they come around."

"Understood." Aeryn nodded at Pilot, who immediately set to work. The Sebacean half-turned for the door, but then hesitated.

"Will you be all right?" she asked the navigator.

Pilot did not get a chance to answer.

"Ummm, guys?" Chiana's disorientated voice drifted over from the doorway. The Nebari stood slumped against the door frame, one hand to her head. She did not look well.

"Would someone like to tell me what the frell is going on?" she declared. She caught sight of Aeryn and her dark eyes widened. "What happened to you? You look terrible!"

Aeryn rolled her eyes at Pilot. "I'm not the only one," she replied testily, starting across the walkway. "Come on. I'll explain on the way to the maintenance bay. You might want to have Zhaan take a look at you."

"And you might want to take a bath!" Chiana retorted grumpily. "Covered in goop and scratches! You look like you lost a fight with Rygel!"

Aeryn chose to ignore that. She took the Nebari's arm and helped her to the doorway. Framed by the sweep of gold, she hesitated, glancing back to meet Pilot's eyes.

The navigator smiled at the unspoken question.

"I'll be fine," he said.

Aeryn smiled. "Good. I'll be back later, once I've eaten and bathed. I want to find out exactly how you pulled this off. After all, it isn't every day a Pilot gets to be a hero!"

Leading Chiana by the arm, she turned and left the chamber. The door swung slowly shut behind her. Pilot smiled to himself as he settled down, listening to the familiar hum of Moya's systems with a deep and abiding contentment. His mind ran through the events of the last few arns, of his… adventure. His first adventure. And although it had been stressful and terrifying at the time, in retrospect, he had to admit, at times it had been rather fun as well.

A hero.

He liked the sound of that.

THE END.

   [1]: mailto:jesspallas@hotmail.com



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